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Hans Brinker 


The Silver Skates 


c A Story of 
ife in £ "Holland 


Mary Mapes Dodge 


Edited by Orton Lowe 
Illustrated by Sears Gallagher 


Ginn and Company 

Boston "New\ork" Chicago "London 
Atlanta "Dallas " Columbus " San Francisco 


mm 



COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY GINN AND 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
3I7-II 


COMPANY 




*6 


//-* 



DEC 28 1917 



<Ebe fltjengttm 33r tag 

GINN AND COMPANY • PRO- 
PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A. 


©CU481146 

U>- I ■ 


EDITOR’S PREFACE 


^HIS story is first of all a story of life in Hol- 
land which keeps constantly before the reader 
the peculiar features of a Dutch landscape in 
the winter season. It reveals the sturdiness, courage, 
and patience of a family of the peasant class, the 
Brinkers, who live near a canal in the province of 
North Holland, a few miles northeast of Amsterdam. 
Both in the scenes of local life and in the narrative 
of the skating journey of the boys to The Hague, 
Holland is made to stand out as a strikingly individ- 
ual country with a strikingly individual people. No 
doubt a reason for the peculiar individuality of the 
land and its people is that it is all the result of a 
long and ceaseless struggle between the wind and 
the sea, the two great forces of nature that are the 
most uncertain and the most difficult to combat. 
Holland has had a slowly sinking coast for eight 
hundred years, but along the North Sea the wind 
centuries ago began building up a great sea wall of 
sand dunes, and where the wind failed to complete 
its work, the sturdy Dutch people have built sea walls, 
or dykes. Thus, again, the wind and the Hollanders 
have kept the sea to its bounds. 

[iii] 


EDITOR’S PREFACE 

When the sea-covered land, or polders, had to be 
made dry after being walled in by dykes, the thrifty 
Dutch brought the wind to their aid. About the fif- 
teenth century the windmill was set to the work of 
pumping the water off the inclosed land. Since that 
time the wind has worked constantly for these people, 
driving their ice-boats and grinding their grain, until 
the windmill has become as much a part of their 
landscape as the dune itself. What nation could not 
develop a striking individuality with such a powerful 
ally, even though it has had to contend with the cruel 
force of the sea ? 

The second impression which this story leaves with 
the reader is that all Holland finds its winter recrea- 
tion in skating. The Dutch boy has almost literally 
skated himself into a lad of pluck and endurance. 
And not only the boys but men, women, and girls 
of all classes have turned to this exhilarating sport. 

In early times, as told in the sagas of the Norse- 
men, the shin bones of animals were tied to the feet 
by thongs as a primitive kind of skates, and the skater 
pushed himself over the ice by means of sticks. 
From this beginning have come the highly perfected 
speed skates and figure skates of to-day. Speed 
skating has developed, until skaters from Friesland 
(mentioned in the story) quite frequently skate long 
distances at the rate of fifteen miles an hour and 
can occasionally make twenty-five miles an hour in 
a race. But many skaters find more charm in figure 
skating than in speed skating. It is interesting to note 
[iv] 


EDITOR’S PREFACE 

that roller skates were invented the same year that 
this story was first published. There could hardly be 
a greater contrast in sports than that between the 
confusion and restriction of indoor roller skating and 
the freedom and abandon of gliding over a Holland 
canal under a winter sky. With skating as a national 
pastime is it any wonder that plucky little Holland 
has skated herself forward as an independent nation ? 

/Although the author has drawn for us an accurate 
picture of the life of Holland, — its struggle against 
the sea, its absorption in its winter pastime, — it is, 
after all, the real story, the story of Hans Brinker, 
the honest son of an honest, industrious father and 
a faithful, self-sacrificing mother, that makes the 
most vivid impression on us. - Hans is alert of body, 

r I 

quick-witted, bright-eyed, and wholly unselfish. In 
the Brinker cottage a boy toils and dreams just as 
real boys toil and dream the world over. In the skill- 
ful depicting of everyday events that touch deeply 
the roots of home life, the author has written a story 
of intense human interest which might have for its 
scene almost any country of the world ; it is only in 
the details which concern dykes, canals, windmills, 
dunes, and other features of its Dutch setting that the 
story becomes merely a tale of " home life in Holland.” 

The author of this story, Mary Mapes Dodge, 
spent her young days in the neighborhood of New 
York City. Her father was Professor James J. Mapes, 
a scientist and inventor, who presided over a hospi- 
table home to which many distinguished visitors came, 
[V] 


EDITOR’S PREFACE 

among them Horace Greeley and William Cullen 
Bryant. Mary was the second of four daughters and 
was born in 1838. During the years of her girl- 
hood she was a great reader of Shakespeare, Milton, 
Byron, Scott, Old English ballads, and the Bible, 
and gave much time to music and drawing. Soon 
after completing her work at school she married 
William Dodge of New York. After the death of 
her husband she returned with her two sons to her 
father’s home, which was now in the country near 
New York. Here, in a remodeled farmhouse on her 
father’s estate, she began the writing of stories for 
young people. She completed the story of " Hans 
Brinker” in 1865, and so popular did it prove that 
it was soon translated into the principal languages of 
Europe. In Holland itself a Dutch translation found 
a sale of many editions. It is a curious coincidence 
that when Mrs. Dodge was in Amsterdam with her 
son in 1873, a copy of this translation was offered 
to the boy by a bookseller as the best and most faith- 
ful juvenile story of Dutch life to be found in Holland. 

Mrs. Dodge’s greatest literary contribution to the 
boys and girls of America was the founding of 
St. Nicholas in 1873 and the editing of this maga- 
zine until her death in 1905. No other journal has 
presented to American boys and girls so much origi- 
nal literature that will be enduring. That its founder 
had a constant interest in the welfare of its readers 
can be gathered from a letter dated from Amsterdam, 
addressed to Dear Boys and Girls at Home,” which 
[vi] 


EDITOR’S PREFACE 


was written to St. Nicholas and was intended to be 
published in a new edition of " Hans Brinker.” It 
has these paragraphs in it : 

If you all could be here with me to-day, what fine times 
we might have walking through this beautiful Dutch city ! 
How we should stare at the crooked houses, standing with 
their gable ends to the street ; at the little slanting mirrors 
fastened outside of the windows ; at the wooden shoes and 
dogcarts near by, the windmills in the distance ; at the 
great warehouses ; at the canals, doing the double duty of 
streets and rivers; and at the singular mingling of trees 
and masts to be seen in every direction. Ah, it would be 
pleasant, indeed ! But here I sit in a great hotel looking 
out upon all these things, knowing quite well that not even 
the spirit of the Dutch, which seems able to accomplish 
anything, can bring you at this moment across the ocean. 
There is one comfort, however, in going through these 
wonderful Holland towns without you — it would be dread- 
ful to have any of the party tumble into the canals ; and 
then these lumbering Dutch wagons, with their heavy 
wheels, so very far apart : what should I do if a few dozen 
of you were to fall under them ? and, perhaps, one of the 
wildest of my boys might harm a stork, and then all Hol- 
land would be against us ! No ; it is better as it is. You 
will be coming, one by one, as the years go on, to see the 
whole thing for yourselves. 

To-day an American boy and I seeing some children 
enter an old house in the business part of Amsterdam, 
followed them in — and what do you think we found ? An 
old woman, here in the middle of summer, selling hot water 
and fire ! She makes her living by it. All day long she sits 
tending her great fires of peat and keeping the shining 
copper tanks above them filled with water. The children 

[vii] 


EDITOR’S PREFACE 

who come and go, carry away in a curious stone pail their 
kettle of boiling water and their blocks of burning peat. 
For these they give her a Dutch cent, which is worth less 
than half of one of ours. In this way persons who cannot 
afford to keep a fire burning in hot weather may yet 
have their cup of tea or coffee and their bit of boiled fish 
and potato. 

After leaving the old fire-woman, who nodded a pleas- 
ant good-by to us and willingly put our stivers in her great 
outside pocket, we drove through the streets, enjoying the 
singular sights of a public washing day. Yes, in certain 
quarters of the city, away from the canals, the streets were 
lively with washerwomen hard at work. Hundreds of them 
in clumsy wooden shoes, with their tucked-up skirts, bare 
arms, and close-fitting caps, were bending over tall wooden 
tubs that reached as high as their waists — gossiping and 
rubbing, rubbing and gossiping — with perfect unconcern, 
in the public thoroughfare, and all washing with cold water 
instead of using hot, as we do. What a grand thing it 
would be for our old fire-woman if boiling water were sud- 
denly to become the fashion on these public washing days ! 

The editor has reluctantly yielded to the necessity 
of some abridgment for the present edition, but the 
portions omitted consist chiefly of descriptions of 
museums and art galleries and in no way weaken 
the story or the picture of Holland and its people. 
The original notes have largely been incorporated 
in the notes at the end of the volume. 

O. L. 

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

AUTHOR’S PREFACE xi 

CHAPTER 

I. Hans and Gretel 3 

II. Holland 10 

III. The Silver Skates 21 

IV. Hans and Gretel find a Friend ... 28 

V. Shadows in the Home ...... 38 

VI. Sunbeams ' 48 

VII. Hans has his Way 54 

VIII. Introducing Jacob Poot and his Cousin . 60 

IX. The Festival of St. Nicholas .... 68 

X. What the Boys saw and did in Amsterdam 77 

XI. Big Manias and Little Oddities ... 85 

XII. On the Way to Haarlem 94 

XIII. A Catastrophe 98 

XIV. Hans 103 

XV. Homes 1 1 1 

XVI. Haarlem — The Boys hear Voices . . 121 

XVII. Friends in Need 129 

XVIII. On the Canal 136 

XIX. Jacob Poot changes the Plan .... 144 

XX. Mynheer Kleef and his Bill of Fare . 154 

XXI. The Red Lion becomes Dangerous . . 158 

XXII. Before the Court 174 

[«] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIII. Leyden 1 79 

XXIV. The Palace and the Wood .... 183 

XXV. The Merchant Prince and the Sister 

Princess 188 

XXVI. Through The Hague 194 

XXVII. Homeward Bound 199 

XXVIII. Boys and Girls 204 

XXIX. The Crisis 21 1 

XXX. Gretel and Hilda 219 

XXXI. The Awakening 228 

XXXII. Bones and Tongues 232 

XXXIII. A New Alarm 238 

XXXIV. The Father’s Return 244 

XXXV. The Thousand Guilders 251 

XXXVI. Glimpses 258 

XXXVII. Looking for Work 263 

XXXVIII. The Fairy Godmother 271 

XXXIX. The Mysterious Watch 278 

XL. A Discovery 289 

XLI. The Race 299 

XLII. Joy in the Cottage ..320 

XLIII. Mysterious Disappearance of Thomas 

Higgs 331 

XLIV. Broad Sunshine 335 

Conclusion 343 


[x] 


NOTES 


347 


AUTHOR’S PREFACE 


^HIS little work aims to combine the instruc- 
tive features of a book of travels with the in- 
terest of a domestic tale. Throughout its pages 
the descriptions of Dutch localities, customs, and 
general characteristics have been given with scrupu- 
lous care. Many of its incidents are drawn from life, 
and the story of Raff Brinker is founded strictly 
upon fact. 

While acknowledging my obligations to many 
well-known writers on Dutch history, literature, and 
art, I turn with especial gratitude to those kind 
Holland friends, who, with generous zeal, have taken 
many a backward glance at their country for my 
sake, seeing it as it looked twenty years ago, when 
the Brinker home stood unnoticed in sunlight and 
shadow. 

Should this simple narrative serve to give my 
young readers a just idea of Holland and its resources, 
or present true pictures of its inhabitants and their 
everyday life, or free them from certain current 
prejudices concerning that noble and enterprising 
people, the leading desire in writing it will have 
been satisfied. 

[xi] 


AUTHOR’S PREFACE 

Should it cause even one heart to feel a deeper 
trust in God’s goodness and love, or aid any in 
weaving a life wherein, through knots and entangle- 
ments, the golden thread shall never be tarnished 
or broken, the prayer with which it was begun and 
ended will have been answered. 

M. M. D. 

1865 


[xii] 


HANS BRINKER 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 



2 




HANS BRINKER 

OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

I 

HANS AND GRETEL 

O N A BRIGHT December morning long ago 
) two thinly clad children were kneeling upon 
the bank of a frozen canal in Holland. 

The sun had not yet appeared ; but the gray sky 
was parted near the horizon, and its edges shone 
crimson with the coming day. Most of the good 
Hollanders were enjoying a placid morning nap ; 
even Mynheer van Stoppelnoze, that worthy old 
Dutchman, was still slumbering " in beautiful repose.” 

Now and then some peasant woman, poising a well- 
filled basket upon her head, came skimming over the 
glassy surface of the canal ; or a lusty boy, skating 
to his day’s work in the town, cast a good-natured 
grimace toward the shivering pair as he flew along. 

[3] 


HANS BRINKER 


Meanwhile, with many a vigorous puff and pull, 
the brother and sister, for such they were, seemed to 
be fastening something upon their feet — not skates, 
certainly, but clumsy pieces of wood narrowed and 
smoothed at their lower edge and pierced with holes, 
through which were threaded strings of rawhide. 

These queer-looking affairs had been made by the 
boy Hans. His mother was a poor peasant woman, 
too poor to even think of such a thing as buying 
skates for her little ones. Rough as these were, they 
had afforded the children many a happy hour upon 
the ice ; and now, as with cold, red fingers our 
young Hollanders tugged at the strings, their solemn 
faces bending closely over their knees, no vision of 
impossible iron runners came to dull the satisfaction 
glowing within. 

In a moment the boy arose and, with a pompous 
swing of the arms and a careless " Come on, 
Gretel ! ” glided easily across the canal. 

"Ah, Hans!” called his sister, plaintively, "this 
foot is not well yet. The strings hurt me on last 
market day, and now I cannot bear them tied in 
the same place.” 

"Tie them higher up, then,” answered Hans, as, 
without looking at her, he performed a wonderful 
cat’s-cradle step on the ice. 

" How can I ? The string is too short.” 

Giving vent to a good-natured Dutch whistle, the 
English of which was that girls were troublesome 
creatures, he steered towards her. "You are foolish 

[ 4 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


to wear such shoes, Gretel, when you have a stout 
leather pair. Your klompen would be better than 
these.” 

" Why, Hans ! Do you forget ? The father threw 
my beautiful new shoes in the fire. Before I knew 
what he had done, they were all ' curled up in the 
midst of the burning peat. I can skate with these, 
but not with my wooden ones. Be careful now — ” 

Hans had taken a string from his pocket. Hum- 
ming a tune as he knelt beside her, he proceeded to 
fasten Gretel’s skate with all the force of his strong 
young arm. 

" Oh, oh ! ” she cried in real pain. 

With an impatient jerk Hans unwound the string. 
He would have cast it upon the ground in true big- 
brother style had he not just then spied a tear trick- 
ling down his sister’s cheek. 

" I ’ll fix it, never fear,” he said, with sudden 
tenderness ; " but we must be quick. The mother 
will need us soon.” 

Then he glanced inquiringly about him, first at 
the ground, next at some bare willow branches above 
his head, and, finally, at the sky, now gorgeous with 
streaks of blue, crimson, and gold. 

Finding nothing in any of these localities to meet 
his need, his eye suddenly brightened as, with the 
air of a fellow who knew what he was about, he 
took off his cap, and removing the tattered lining, 
adjusted it in a smooth pad over the top of Gretel’s 
worn-out shoe. 


[ 5 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Now,” he cried triumphantly, at the same time 
arranging the strings as briskly as his benumbed 
fingers would allow, " can you bear some pulling ? ” 

Gretel drew up her lips as if to say, “ Hurt away,” 
but made no further response. 

In another moment they were laughing together 
as, hand in hand, they flew along the canal, never 
thinking whether the ice would bear or not; for in 
Holland ice is generally an all-winter affair. It set- 
tles itself upon the water in a determined kind of 
way, and so far from growing thin and uncertain 
every time the sun is a little severe upon it, it gathers 
its forces day by day and flashes defiance to every 
beam. 

Presently squeak, squeak ! sounded something 
beneath Hans’s feet. Next his strokes grew shorter, 
ending ofttimes with a jerk, and, finally, he lay 
sprawling upon the ice, kicking against the air with 
many a fantastic flourish. 

" Ha, ha ! ” laughed Gretel, " that was a fine 
tumble ! ” But a tender heart was beating under her 
coarse blue jacket ; and even as she laughed she 
came with a graceful sweep close to her prostrate 
brother. 

"Are you hurt, Hans? Oh, you are laughing ! 
Catch me now ! ” And she darted away, shivering 
no longer, but with cheeks all aglow and eyes 
sparkling with fun. 

Hans sprang to his feet and started in brisk 
pursuit, but it was no easy thing to catch Gretel. 

[ 6 ] 



© 


/ 



HANS BRIN KE R 

Before she had traveled very far her skates, too, 
began to squeak. 

Believing that discretion was the better part of 
valor, she turned suddenly and skated into her 
pursuer’s arms. 

" Ha, ha ! I ’ve caught you ! ” cried Hans. 

" Ha, ha ! I caught you” she retorted, struggling 
to free herself. 

Just then a clear, quick voice was heard calling, 
" Hans ! Gretel ! ” 

" It ’s the mother,” said Hans, looking solemn in 
an instant. 

By this time the canal was gilded with sunlight. 
The pure morning air was very delightful, and 
skaters were gradually increasing in numbers. It 
was hard to obey the summons. But Gretel and 
Hans were good children. Without a thought of 
yielding to the temptation to linger, they pulled off 
their skates, leaving half the knots still tied. Hans, 
with his great square shoulders and bushy yellow 
hair, towered high above his blue-eyed little sister 
as they trudged homeward. He was fifteen years 
old and Gretel was only twelve. He was a solid, 
hearty-looking boy with honest eyes and a brow that 
seemed to bear a sign, "goodness within,” just as the 
little Dutch zomerhuis wears a motto over its portal. 
Gretel was lithe and quick. Her eyes had a dancing 
light in them ; and while you looked at her cheek the 
color paled and deepened just as it does upon a bed 
of pink-and-white blossoms when the wind is blowing. 

[ 8 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


As soon as the children turned from the canal, 
they could see their parents’ cottage. Their mother’s 
tall form, arrayed in jacket and petticoat and close- 
fitting cap, stood, like a picture, in the crooked frame 
of the doorway. Had the cottage been a mile away, 
it would still have seemed near. In that flat coun- 
try every object stands out plainly in the distance ; 
the chickens show as distinctly as the windmills. 
Indeed, were it not for the dikes and the high 
banks of the canals, one could stand almost any- 
where in Middle Holland without seeing a mound 
or a ridge between the eye and the “ jumping-off 
place.” 

None had better cause to know the nature of 
these same dikes than Dame Brinker and the pant- 
ing youngsters now running at her call. But before 
stating why , let me ask you to take a rocking-chair 
trip with me to that far country, where you may see, 
perhaps for the first time, some curious things that 
Hans and Gretel saw every day. 


[9] 



II 

HOLLAND 

OLLAND is one of the queerest countries 



under the sun. It should be called Odd- 


A 1L land or Contrary-land, for in nearly every- 
thing it is different from other parts of the world. 
In the first place, a large portion of the country is 
lower than the level of the sea. Great dikes, or bul- 
warks, have been erected, at a heavy cost of money 
and labor, to keep the ocean where it belongs. On 
certain parts of the coast it sometimes leans with all 
its weight against the land, and it is as much as the 
poor country can do to stand the pressure. Some- 
times the dikes give way, or spring a leak, and the 
most disastrous results ensue. They are high and 
wide, and the tops of some of them are covered with 
buildings and trees. They have even fine public 
roads upon them, from which horses may look down 
upon wayside cottages. Often the keels of floating 
ships are higher than the roofs of the dwellings. 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

The stork clattering to her young on the house 
peak may feel that her nest is lifted far out of 
danger, but the croaking frog in neighboring bul- 
rushes is nearer the stars than she. Water bugs 
dart backward and forward above the heads of the 
chimney swallows, and willow trees seem drooping 
with shame because they cannot reach as high as 
the reeds near by. 

Ditches, canals, ponds, rivers, and lakes are every- 
where to be seen. High, but not dry, they shine in 
the sunlight, catching nearly all the bustle and the 
business, quite scorning the tame fields stretching 
damply beside them. One is tempted to ask, "Which 
is Holland — the shores or the water?" The very 
verdure that should be confined to the land has made 
a mistake and settled upon the fishponds. In fact, 
the entire country is a kind of saturated sponge, or, 
as the English poet Butler called it, 

A land that rides at anchor and is moored; 

In which they do not live, but go abroad. 

Persons are born, live, and die, and even have 
their gardens, on canal boats. Farmhouses, with 
roofs like great slouched hats pulled over their eyes, 
stand on wooden legs with a tucked-up sort of air, 
as if to say, "We intend to keep dry if we can." 
Even the horses wear a wide stool on each hoof to 
lift them out of the mire. In short, the landscape 
everywhere suggests a paradise for ducks. It is a 
glorious country in summer for barefooted girls and 

C ” ] 


HANS BRINKER 


boys. Such wadings ! such mimic ship-sailing ! such 
rowing, fishing, and swimming ! Only think of a 
chain of puddles where one can launch chip boats 
all day long and never make a return trip ! But 
enough. A full recital would set all young America 
rushing in a body toward the Zuider Zee. 

Dutch cities seem at first sight to be a bewildering 
jungle of houses, bridges, churches, and ships, sprout- 
ing into masts, steeples, and trees. In some cities 
vessels are hitched, like horses, to their owners’ door- 
posts, and receive their freight from the upper win- 
dows. Mothers scream to Lodewyk and Kassy not 
to swing on the garden gate, for fear they may be 
drowned. Water-roads are more frequent there than 
common roads and railways. Water-fences in the 
form of lazy green ditches inclose pleasure ground, 
polder, and garden. 

Sometimes fine green hedges are seen, but wooden 
fences such as we have in America are rarely met 
with in Holland. As for stone fences, a Dutchman 
would lift his hands with astonishment at the very 
idea. There is no stone there, excepting those great 
masses of rock that have been brought from other 
lands to strengthen and protect the coast. All the 
small stones or pebbles, if there ever were any, seem 
to be imprisoned in pavements or quite melted away. 
Boys with strong, quick arms may grow from pina- 
fores to full beards without ever finding one to start 
the water-rings or set the rabbits flying. The water- 
roads are nothing less than canals intersecting the 

[ 12 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

country in every direction. These are of all sizes, 
from the Great North Holland Ship Canal, which is 
the wonder of the world, to those which a boy can 
leap. Water-omnibuses, called trekschuyten , constantly 
ply up and down these roads for the conveyance of 
passengers ; and water-drays, called pakschuyten , are 
used for carrying fuel and merchandise. Instead of 
green country lanes, green canals stretch from field 
to barn and from barn to garden ; and the farms, 
or polders as they are termed, are merely great lakes 
pumped dry. Some of the busiest streets are water, 
while many of the country roads are paved with 
brick. The city boats with their rounded sterns, 
gilded prows, and gayly painted sides are unlike 
any others under the sun ; and a Dutch wagon, with 
its funny little crooked pole, is a perfect mystery 
of mysteries. 

" One thing is clear,” cries Master Brightside, 
" the inhabitants need never be thirsty.” But no, 
Odd-land is true to itself still. Notwithstanding the 
sea pushing to get in, and the lakes struggling to get 
out, and the overflowing canals, rivers, and ditches, 
in many districts there is no water fit to swallow ; 
our poor Hollanders must go dry, or drink wine and 
beer, or send far into the inland, to Utrecht and 
other favored localities, for that precious fluid older 
than Adam, yet young as the morning dew. Some- 
times, indeed, the inhabitants can swallow a shower, 
when they are provided with any means of catching 
it; but generally they are like the albatross-haunted 

[ *3 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


sailors in Coleridge’s famous poem of "The Ancient 
Mariner ’’ ; they see 

Water, water, everywhere, 

Nor any drop to drink. 

Great flapping windmills all over the country make 
it look as if flocks of huge sea birds were just settling 
upon it. Everywhere one sees the funniest trees, 
bobbed into fantastical shapes, with their trunks 
painted a dazzling white, yellow, or red. Horses are 
often yoked three abreast. Men, women, and chil- 
dren go clattering about in wooden shoes with loose 
heels ; peasant girls who cannot get beaux for love, 
hire them for money, to escort them to the kermis ; 
and husbands and wives lovingly harness themselves 
side by side on the bank of the canal and drag their 
pakschuyten to market. 

Another peculiar feature of Holland is the dune, 
or sand hill. These are numerous along certain por- 
tions of the coast. Before they were sown with 
coarse reed grass and other plants, to hold them 
down, they used to send great storms of sand over 
the inland. So to add to the oddities, farmers some- 
times dig down under the surface to find their soil ; 
and on windy days dry showers (of sand) often fall 
upon fields that have grown wet under a week of 
sunshine ! 

In short, almost the only familiar thing we Yankees 
can meet with in Holland is a harvest song, which 
is quite popular there, though no linguist could 
[i4] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


translate it. Even then we must shut our eyes and 
listen only to the tune, which I leave you to guess. 

" Yankee didee dudel down, 

Didee dudel lawnter ; 

Yankee viver, voover, vown, 

Botermelk und Tawnter ! ” 

On the other hand, many of the oddities of Hol- 
land serve only to prove the thrift and perseverance 
of the people. There is not a richer or more care- 
fully tilled garden spot in the whole world than this 
leaky, springy little country. There is not a braver, 
more heroic race than its quiet, passive-looking inhab- 
itants. Few nations have equaled it in important 
discoveries and inventions ; none has excelled it in 
commerce, navigation, learning, and science, or set 
as noble examples in the promotion of education 
and public charities ; and none, in proportion to its 
extent, has expended more money and labor upon 
public works. 

Holland has its shining annals of noble and illus- 
trious men and women, its grand historic records of 
patience, resistance, and victory, its religious freedom, 
its enlightened enterprise, its art, its music, and its 
literature. It has truly been called "the battlefield 
of Europe ” ; as truly may we consider it the asylum 
of the world, for the oppressed of every nation have 
there found shelter and encouragement. If we Amer- 
icans can laugh at the Dutch and call them human 
beavers, and hint that their country may float off any 
day at high tide, we can also feel proud, and say 
[iS] 


HANS BRINKER 


they have proved themselves heroes and that their 
country will not float off while there is a Dutchman 
left to grapple it. 

There are said to be at least ninety-nine hundred 
large windmills in Holland, with sails ranging from 
eighty to one hundred and twenty feet long. They 
are employed in sawing timber, beating hemp, grind- 
ing, and many other kinds of work ; but their prin- 
cipal use is for pumping water from the lowlands 
into the canals and for guarding against the inland 
freshets that so often deluge the country. Their 
yearly cost is said to be nearly ten millions of dollars. 
The large ones are of great power. Their huge, cir- 
cular tower, rising sometimes from the midst of fac- 
tory buildings, is surmounted with a smaller one, 
tapering into a caplike roof. This upper tower is 
encircled at its base with a balcony, high above which 
juts the axis, turned by its four prodigious ladder- 
backed sails. 

Many of the windmills are primitive affairs, seem- 
ing sadly in need of Yankee " improvements,” but 
some of the new ones are admirable. They are so 
constructed that by some ingenious contrivance they 
present their fans, or wings, to the wind in precisely 
the right direction to work with the requisite power. 
In other words, the miller may take a nap and feel 
quite sure that his mill will study the wind and make 
the most of it until he wakens. Should there be but 
a slight current of air, every sail will spread itself to 
catch the faintest breath ; but if a heavy " blow ” 
[. 6 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

should come, they will shrink at its touch, like great 
mimosa leaves, and only give it half a chance to 
move them. 

One of the old prisons of Amsterdam, called the 
" Rasphouse,” because the thieves and vagrants who 
were confined there were employed in rasping log- 
wood, had a cell for the punishment of lazy prisoners. 
In one corner of this cell was a pump, and in an- 
other an opening through which a steady stream of 
water was admitted. The prisoner could take his 
choice — either to stand still and be drowned, or to 
work for dear life at the pump and keep the flood 
down until his jailer chose to relieve him. Now it 
seems to me that, throughout Holland, Nature has 
introduced this little diversion on a grand scale. The 
Dutch have always been forced to pump for their 
very existence, and probably must continue to do so 
to the end of time. 

Every year millions of dollars are spent in repair- 
ing dikes and regulating water-levels. If these im- 
portant duties were neglected, the country would be 
uninhabitable. Already dreadful consequences, as I 
have said, have followed the bursting of these dikes. 
Hundreds of villages and towns have from time to 
time been buried beneath the rush of waters, and 
nearly a million of persons have been destroyed. One 
of the most fearful inundations ever known occurred 
in the autumn of the year 1570. Twenty-eight terri- 
ble floods had before that time overwhelmed portions 
of Holland, but this was the most terrible of all. 

[H] 


HANS BRINKER 


The unhappy country had long been suffering under 
Spanish tyranny ; now, it seemed, the crowning point 
was given to its troubles. When we read Motley’s 
" History of the Rise of the Dutch Republic,” we 
learn to revere the brave people who have endured, 
suffered, and dared so much. 

Mr. Motley, in his thrilling account of the great 
inundation, tells us how a long-continued and violent 
gale had been sweeping the Atlantic waters into the 
North Sea, piling them against the coasts of the 
Dutch provinces ; how the dikes, tasked beyond their 
strength, burst in all directions ; how even the hand- 
boss, a bulwark formed of oaken piles braced with 
iron, moored with heavy anchors, and secured by 
gravel and granite, was snapped to pieces like pack- 
thread ; how fishing-boats and bulky vessels, floating 
up into the country, became entangled among the 
trees or beat in the roofs and walls of dwellings ; 
and how, at last, all Friesland was converted into an 
angry sea. " Multitudes of men, women, children, of 
horses, oxen, sheep, and every domestic animal, were 
struggling in the waves in every direction. Every 
boat and every article which could serve as a boat 
were eagerly seized upon. Every house was inun- 
dated ; even the graveyards gave up their dead. The 
living infant in his cradle and the long-buried corpse 
in his coffin floated side by side. The ancient flood 
seemed about to be renewed. Everywhere — upon 
the tops of trees, upon the steeples of churches — 
human beings were clustered, praying to God for 
[18] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

mercy and to their fellow men for assistance. As the 
storm at last was subsiding, boats began to ply in 
every direction, saving those who were struggling in 
the water, picking fugitives from roofs and tree tops, 
and collecting the bodies of those already drowned.” 
No less than one hundred thousand human beings 
had perished in a few hours. Thousands upon thou- 
sands of dumb creatures lay dead upon the water ; 
and the damage done to property of every description 
was beyond calculation. 

Robles, the Spanish governor, was foremost in 
noble efforts to save life and lessen the horrors of 
the catastrophe. He had formerly been hated by the 
Dutch because of his Spanish or Portuguese blood ; 
but by his goodness and activity in their hour of 
disaster, he won all hearts to gratitude. He soon 
introduced an improved method of constructing the 
dikes, and passed a law that they should in future 
be kept up by the owners of the soil. There were 
fewer heavy floods from this time, though within 
less than three hundred years, six fearful inundations 
swept over the land. 

In the spring there is always great danger of in- 
land freshets, especially in time of thaw, because 
the rivers, choked with blocks of ice, overflow before 
they can discharge their rapidly rising waters into 
the ocean. Added to this the sea chafing and press- 
ing against the dikes, it is no wonder that Holland 
is often in a state of alarm. The greatest care is 
taken to prevent accidents. Engineers and workmen 
[i9] 


HANS BRINKER 


are stationed all along in threatened places, and a 
close watch is kept up night and day. When a gen- 
eral signal of danger is given, the inhabitants all 
rush to the rescue, eager to combine against their 
common foe. As, everywhere else, straw is supposed 
to be of all things the most helpless in the water, 
of course in Holland it must be rendered the main- 
stay against a rushing tide. Huge straw mats are 
pressed against the embankments, fortified with clay 
and heavy stone; and, once adjusted, the ocean dashes 
against them in vain. 

Raff Brinker, the father of Gretel and Hans, had 
for years been employed upon the dikes. It was at 
the time of a threatened inundation, when in the 
midst of a terrible storm, in darkness and sleet, the 
men were laboring at a weak spot near the Veermyk 
sluice, that he fell from the scaffolding and was taken 
home insensible. From that hour he never worked 
again. Though he lived on, mind and memory were 
gone. 

Gretel could not remember him otherwise than 
as the strange, silent man, whose eyes followed her 
vacantly whichever way she turned ; but Hans had 
recollections of a hearty, cheerful-voiced father, who 
was never tired of bearing him upon his shoulder 
and whose careless song still seemed echoing near 
when he lay awake at night and listened. 


[20] 



& 


III 


THE SILVER SKATES 
\ME BRINKER earned a scanty support 



for her family by raising vegetables, spin- 


ning, and knitting. Once she had worked 


on board the barges plying up and down the canal, 
and had occasionally been harnessed with other women 
to the towing-rope of a pakschuyt plying between 
Broek and Amsterdam. Biit when Hans had grown 
strong and large, he had insisted upon doing all such 
drudgery in her place. Besides, her husband had be- 
come so very helpless of late that he required her 
constant care. Although he had not as much intel- 
ligence as a little child, he was yet strong of arm 
and very hearty ; and Dame Brinker had sometimes 
great trouble in controlling him. When Hans was 
in the cottage, or some kind-hearted passer-by came 
to her assistance on hearing a noise within, the poor 
vrouw could get on very well ; but when she was 
alone it was a different matter. 


HANS BRINKER 


"Ah, children! he was so good and steady,” she 
would sometimes say, " and as wise as a lawyer. 
Even the burgomaster would stop to ask him a 
question ; and now, alack ! he does n’t know his wife 
and little ones. You remember the father, Hans, when 
he was himself, — a great, brave man, — don’t you ? ” 

"Yes, indeed, mother ! He knew everything, and 
could do anything under the sun ; and how he would 
sing! Why, you used to laugh and say it was enough 
to set the windmills dancing.” 

" So I did. Bless me ! how the boy remembers ! 
Gretel, child, take that knitting-needle from your 
father, quick, — he ’ll get it in his eyes, maybe, — 
and put the shoe on him. His poor feet are like ice 
half the time, but I can’t keep ’em covered, all I 
can do.” And then, half wailing, half humming, 
Dame Brinker would sit down and fill the low cot- 
tage with the whir of her spinning-wheel. 

Nearly all the outdoor work, as well as the house- 
hold labor, was performed by Hans and Gretel. At 
certain seasons of the year the children went out 
day after day to gather peat, which they would stow 
away in square, bricklike pieces for fuel. At other 
times, when home work permitted, Hans rode the 
towing-horses on the canals, earning a few stivers a 
day, and Gretel tended geese for the neighboring 
farmers. 

Hans was clever at carving in wood, and both he 
and Gretel were good gardeners. Gretel could sing 
and sew, and run on great, high, homemade stilts 
[22] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


better than any girl for miles around. She could 
learn a ballad in five minutes and find, in its season, 
any weed or flower you could name. But she dreaded 
books ; and often the very sight of the figuring-board 
in the old schoolhouse would set her eyes swimming. 
Hans, on the contrary, was slow and steady. The 
harder the task, whether in study or daily labor, the 
better he liked it. Boys who sneered at him out of 
school, on account of his patched clothes and scant 
leather breeches, were forced to yield him the post of 
honor in nearly every class. It was not long before 
he was the only youngster in the school who had not 
stood at least once in the corner of horrors, where 
hung a dreaded whip and over it this motto : 

Leer, leer ! jou luigaart, of dit endje touw zal je leeren ! 

It was only in winter that Gretel and Hans could 
be spared to attend school ; and for the past month 
they had been kept at home because their mother 
needed their services. Raff Brinker required constant 
attention ; and there was black-bread to be made, and 
the house to be kept clean, and stockings and other 
things to be knitted and sold in the market place. 

While they were busily assisting their mother on 
this cold December morning, a merry troop of girls 
and boys came skimming down the canal. There were 
fine skaters among them ; and as the bright medley 
of costumes flitted by, it looked from a distance as 
though the ice had suddenly thawed and some gay 
tulip bed were floating along on the current. 

[23] 


HANS BRINKER 


There was the rich burgomaster’s daughter, Hilda 
van Gleck, with her costly furs and loose-fitting 
velvet sack ; and near by a pretty peasant girl, 
Annie Bouman, jauntily attired in a coarse scarlet 
jacket and a blue skirt just short enough to display 
the gray homespun hose to advantage. Then there 
was the proud Rychie Korbes, whose father, Mynheer 
van Korbes, was one of the leading men of Amster- 
dam ; and, flocking closely around her, Carl Schum- 
mel, Peter and Ludwig van Holp, Jacob Poot, and 
a very small boy, rejoicing in the tremendous name 
of Voostenwalbert Schimmelpenninck. There were 
nearly twenty other boys and girls in the party, and 
one and all seemed full of excitement and frolic. 

Up and down the canal, within the space of a 
half mile, they skated, exerting their racing-powers 
to the utmost. Often the swiftest among them was 
seen to dodge from under the very nose of some 
pompous lawgiver or doctor, who, with folded arms, 
was skating leisurely toward the town ; or a chain of 
girls would suddenly break at the approach of a fat 
old burgomaster, who, with gold-headed cane poised 
in air, was puffing his way to Amsterdam. Equipped 
in skates wonderful to behold — from their superb 
strappings and dazzling runners curving over the 
instep and topped with gilt balls — he would open 
his fat eyes a little if one of the maidens chanced to 
drop him a curtsy, but would not dare to bow in 
return, for fear of losing his balance. 

Not only pleasure seekers and stately men of note 

[24] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

were upon the canal. There were workpeople, with 
weary eyes, hastening to their shops and factories ; 
market women with loads upon their heads ; peddlers 
bending with their packs ; bargemen, with shaggy 
hair and bleared faces, jostling roughly on their 
way ; kind-eyed clergymen speeding perhaps to the 
bedsides of the dying ; and, after a while, groups of 
children, with satchels slung over their shoulders, whiz- 
zing past toward the distant school. One and all wore 
skates, excepting, indeed, a muffled-up farmer, whose 
queer cart bumped along on the margin of the canal. 

Before long our merry boys and girls were almost 
lost in the confusion of bright colors, the ceaseless 
motion, and the gleaming of skates flashing back 
the sunlight. We might have known no more of 
them, had not the whole party suddenly come to a 
'standstill and, grouping themselves out of the way 
of the passers-by, all talked at once to a pretty little 
maiden, whom they had drawn from the tide of 
people flowing toward the town. 

"Oh, Katrinka ! ” they cried in a breath, " have 
you heard of it ? The race — we want you to join ! ” 

"What race?” asked Katrinka, laughing. "Don’t 
all talk at once, please ; I can’t understand.” 

Everyone panted and looked at Rychie Korbes, 
who was their acknowledged spokeswoman. 

"Why,” said Rychie, "we are to have a grand 
skating match on the 20th, on Mevrouw van deck’s 
birthday. It ’s all Hilda’s work. They are going to 
give a splendid prize to the best skater.” 

[25] 


HANS BRINKER 

''Yes,” chimed in half a dozen voices — "a beau- 
tiful pair of silver skates — perfectly magnificent! 
with, oh ! such straps and silver bells and buckles ! ” 

" Who said they had bells ? ” put in the small 
voice of the boy with the big name. 

"/ say so, Master Voost,” replied Rychie. 

" So they have” — "No, I’m sure they haven’t” 
— " Oh ! how can you say so?” — "It’s an arrow” 
— "And Mynheer van Korbes told my mother they 
had bells” — came from sundry of the excited group; 
but Mynheer Voostenwalbert Schimmelpenninck es- 
sayed to settle the matter with a decisive " Well, you 
don’t any of you know a single thing about it ; they 
haven’t a sign of a bell on them; they — ” 

" Oh, oh ! ” and the chorus of conflicting opinion 
broke forth again. 

"The girls’ pair are to have bells,” interposed 
Hilda, quietly; "but there is to be another pair for 
the boys, with an arrow engraved upon the sides.” 

"There! I told you so!” cried nearly all the 
youngsters in a breath. 

Katrinka looked at them with bewildered eyes. 

" Who is to try ? ” she asked. 

" All of us,” answered Rychie. " It will be such 
fun ! And you must, too, Katrinka. But it ’s school- 
time now ; we will talk it over at noon. Oh ! you 
will join, of course.” 

Katrinka, without replying, made a graceful 
pirouette and — laughing out a coquettish, "Don’t 
you hear the last bell? Catch me!” — darted off 
[26] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


toward the schoolhouse, standing half a mile away on 
the canal. 

All started pell-mell at this challenge ; but they 
tried in vain to catch the bright-eyed, laughing 
creature, who, with golden hair streaming in the 
sunlight, cast back many a sparkling glance of 
triumph as she floated onward. 

Beautiful Katrinka ! Flushed with youth and 
health, all life and mirth and motion, what wonder 
thine image, ever floating in advance, sped through 
one boy’s dreams that night ! What wonder that it 
seemed his darkest hour when, years afterwards, thy 
presence floated away from him forever ! 





IV 

HANS AND GRETEL FIND A FRIEND 

A NOON our young friends poured forth from 
the schoolhouse, intent upon having an 
hour’s practicing upon the canal. 

They had skated but a few moments, when Carl 
Schummel said mockingly to Hilda : " There ’s a 
pretty pair just coming upon the ice ! The little 
ragpickers ! Their skates must have been a present 
from the king direct.” 

" They are patient creatures,” said Hilda, gently. 
" It must have been hard to learn to skate upon such 
queer affairs. They are very poor peasants, you see. 
The boy has probably made the skates himself.” 

Carl was somewhat abashed. 

" Patient they may be ; but as for skating, they 
start off pretty well, only to finish with a jerk. They 
could move well to your new staccato piece, I think.” 

Hilda laughed pleasantly and left him. After join- 
ing a small detachment of the racers and sailing past 
[28] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

every one of them, she halted beside Gretel, who, 
with eager eyes, had been watching the sport. 

" What is your name, little girl ? ” 

" Gretel, my lady,” answered the child, somewhat 
awed by Hilda’s rank, though they were nearly of 
the same age; "and my brother is called Hans.” 

" Hans is a stout fellow,” said Hilda, cheerily, 

and seems to have a warm stove somewhere within 
him ; but you look cold. You should wear more 
clothing, little one.” 

Gretel, who had nothing else to wear, tried to 
laugh, as she answered : "I am not so very little. 
I am past twelve years old.” 

" Oh, I beg your pardon ! You see, I am nearly 
fourteen, and so large of my age that other girls 
seem small to me ; but that is nothing. Perhaps 
you will shoot up far above me yet — not unless 
you dress more warmly, though ; shivering girls 
never grow.” 

Hans flushed as he saw tears rising in Gretel’s eyes. 

" My sister has not complained of the cold, but 
this is bitter weather, they say ” ; and he looked 
sadly upon Gretel. 

"It is nothing,” said Gretel. "I am often warm ; 
too warm, when I am skating. You are good, juf- 
vrouw, to think of it.” 

"No, no ! ” answered Hilda, quite angry at her- 
self. "I am careless, cruel ; but I meant no harm. 
I wanted to ask you — I mean — if — ” And here 
Hilda, coming to the point of her errand, faltered 

[29] 


HANS BRINKER 

before the poorly clad but noble-looking children she 
wished to serve. 

" What is it, young lady ? ” exclaimed Hans, 
eagerly. "If there is any service I can do; any — ” 

"Oh, no, no!" laughed Hilda, shaking off her 
embarrassment. " I only wished to speak to you 
about the grand race. Why do you not join it ? 
You both can skate well ; and the ranks are free. 
Anyone may enter for the prize." 

Gretel looked wistfully at Hans, who, tugging at 
his cap, answered respectfully: "Ah , jufvrouw, even 
if we could enter, we could skate only a few strokes 
with the rest. Our skates are hard wood, you see 
(holding up the sole of his foot), but they soon 
become damp, and then they stick and trip us." 

Gretel’s eyes twinkled with fun as she thought 
of Hans’s mishap in the morning ; but she blushed 
as she faltered out timidly,' " Oh, no! we can’t join; 
but may we be there, my lady, on the great day, to 
look on ? ’’ 

" Certainly," answered Hilda, looking kindly into 
the two earnest faces, and wishing from her heart 
that she had not spent so much of her monthly 
allowance for lace and finery. She had but eight 
kwartjes left, and they would buy but one pair of 
skates, at the furthest. 

Looking down with a sigh at the two pair of feet 
so very different in size, she asked, " Which of you 
is the better skater?" 

" Gretel," replied Hans, promptly. 

[30] 




HANS BRINKER 


" Hans,” answered Gretel, in the same breath. 

Hilda smiled. 

" I cannot buy you each a pair of skates, or even 
one good pair ; but here are eight kwartjes. Decide 
between you which stands the best chance of winning 
the race, and buy the skates accordingly. I wish I 
had enough to buy better ones. Good-by ! ” And 
with a nod and a smile, Hilda, after handing the 
money to the electrified Hans, glided swiftly away 
to rejoin her companions. 

" Jufvrouw, jufvrouw van Gleck ! ” called Hans in 
a loud tone, stumbling after her as well as he could ; 
for one of his skate strings was untied. 

Hilda turned, and, with one hand raised to shield 
her eyes from the sun, seemed to him to be floating 
through the air, nearer and nearer. 

"We cannot take this money,” panted Hans, 
" though we know your goodness in giving it.” 

" Why not, indeed ? ” asked Hilda, flushing. 

" Because,” replied Hans, bowing like a clown, 
but looking with the eye of a prince at the queenly 
girl, "we have not earned it.” 

Hilda was quick-witted. She had noticed a pretty 
wooden chain upon Gretel’s neck. 

" Carve me a chain, Hans, like the one your sister 
wears.” 

" That I will, lady, with all my heart. We have 
whitewood in the house, fine as ivory. You shall 
have one to-morrow ” ; and Hans hastily tried to 
return the money. 

[32] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" No, no ! ” said Hilda, decidedly. " That sum 
will be but a poor price for the chain”; and off she 
darted, outstripping the fleetest among the skaters. 

Hans sent a long, bewildered glance after her. It 
was useless, he felt, to make any further resistance. 

" It is right,” he muttered, half to himself, half 
to his faithful shadow, Gretel. " I must work hard 
every minute and sit up half the night if the mother 
will let me burn a candle ; but the chain shall be 
finished. We may keep the money, Gretel.” 

" What a good young lady ! ” cried Gretel, clap- 
ping her hands with delight. " Oh, Hans ! was it for 
nothing the stork settled on our roof last summer ? 
Do you remember how the mother said it would 
bring us luck, and how she cried when Janzoon 
Kolp shot him ? And she said it would bring him 
trouble. But the luck has come to us, at last. Now, 
Hans, if mother sends us to town to-morrow, you 
can buy the skates in the market place.” 

Hans shook his head. " The young lady would 
have given us the money to buy skates ; but if I 
earn it, Gretel, it shall be spent for wool. You must 
have a warm jacket.” 

" Oh ! ” cried Gretel, in real dismay. " Not buy 
the skates ! Why, I am not often cold-. Mother says 
the blood runs up and down in poor children’s veins 
humming, ' I must keep ’em warm ; I must keep ’em 
warm ! ’ ” 

" Oh, Hans ! ” she continued, with something like 
a sob, "don’t say you won’t buy the skates ; it makes 

[33] 


HANS BRINKER 


me feel just like crying. Besides, I want to be 
cold — I mean I’m real, awful warm — so, now ! ” 
Hans looked up hurriedly. He had a true Dutch 
horror of tears or emotion of any kind ; and, most 
of all, he dreaded to see his sister’s blue eyes over- 
flowing. 

"Now mind,” cried Gretel, seeing her advantage, 
" I ’ll feel awful if you give up the skates. I don’t 
want them ; I’m not such a stingy as that. But I 
want you to have them ; and then, when I get bigger, 
they ’ll do for me. Oh-h ! count the pieces, Hans. 
Did ever you see so many ? ” 

Hans turned the money thoughtfully in his palm. 
Never in all his life had he longed so intensely for 
a pair of skates ; for he had known of the race and 
had, boylike, fairly ached for a chance to test his 
powers with the other children. He felt confident 
that with a good pair of steel runners he could readily 
distance most of the boys on the canal. Then, too, 
Gretel’s argument was so plausible. On the other 
hand, he knew that she, with her strong but lithe little 
frame, needed but a week’s practice on good runners 
to make her a better skater than Rychie Korbes or 
even Katrinka Flack. As soon as this last thought 
flashed upon him, his resolve was made. If Gretel 
would not have the jacket, she should have the skates. 

"No, Gretel,” he answered at last, " I can wait. 
Some day I may have money enough saved to buy 
a fine pair. You shall have these.” 

Gretel’s eyes sparkled ; but in another instant she 

[ 34 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


insisted rather faintly. " The young lady gave the 
money to you , Hans. I’d be real bad to take it.” 

Hans shook his head resolutely as he trudged on, 
causing his sister to half skip and half walk in her 
effort to keep beside him. 'By this time they had 
taken off their wooden " rockers ” and were hasten- 
ing home to tell their mother the good news. 

“ Oh, / know ! ” cried Gretel, in a sprightly tone. 
"You can do this. You can get a pair a little too 
small for you and too big for me, and we can take 
turns and use them. Won’t that be fine ? ” and 
Gretel clapped her hands again. 

Poor Hans ! this was a strong temptation, but he 
pushed it away from him, brave-hearted fellow that 
he was. 

" Nonsense, Gretel ! you could never get on with 
a big pair ; you stumbled about with these like a 
blind chicken, before I curved off the ends. No ; 
you must have a pair to fit exactly, and you must 
practice every chance you can get until the 20th 
comes. My little Gretel shall win the silver skates.” 

Gretel could not help laughing with delight at the 
very idea. 

" Hans, Gretel ! ” called out a familiar voice. 

" Coming, mother.” And they hastened toward 
the cottage, Hans still shaking the pieces of silver 
in his hand. 

On the following day there was not a prouder nor 
a happier boy in all Holland than Hans Brinker, as 

[35] 


HANS BRINKER 

he watched his sister, with many a dexterous sweep, 
flying in and out among the skaters who at sundown 
thronged the canal. A warm jacket had been given 
her by the kind-hearted Hilda, and the burst-out 
shoes had been cobbled into decency by Dame Brinker. 
As the little creature darted backward and forward, 
flushed with enjoyment and quite unconscious of the 
many wondering glances bent upon her, she felt that 
the shining runners beneath her feet had suddenly 
turned earth into fairyland, while " Hans, dear, 
good Hans ! ” echoed itself over and over again in 
her grateful heart. 

" By den donder ! ” exclaimed Peter van Holp to 
Carl Schummel, " but that little one in the red jacket 
and patched petticoat skates well. Gunst ! she has 
toes on her heels, and eyes in the back of her head. 
See her ! It will be a joke if she gets in the race 
and beats Katrinka Flack, after all.” 

" Hush ! not so loud ! ” returned Carl, rather sneer- 
ingly. "That little lady in rags is the special pet of 
Hilda van Gleck. Those shining skates are her gift, 
if I make no mistake.” 

"So, so ! ” exclaimed Peter, with a radiant smile, 
for Hilda was his best friend. " She has been at 
her good work there too ! ” And Mynheer van Holp, 
after cutting a double 8 on the ice, to say nothing 
of a huge P, then a jump, and an H, glided onward 
until he found himself beside Hilda. 

Hand in hand they skated together, laughingly at 
first, then staidly talking in a low tone. 

[ 36 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

Strange to say, Peter van Holp soon arrived at 
a sudden conviction that his little sister needed a 
wooden chain just like Hilda’s. 

Two days afterward, on St. Nicholas’s Eve, Hans, 
having burned three candle ends and cut his thumb 
into the bargain, stood in the market place at Am- 
sterdam buying another pair of skates. 


[ 37 ] 



SHADOWS IN THE HOME 

G OOD Dame Brinker ! as soon as the scanty 
, dinner had been cleared away that noon, 
she had arrayed herself in her holiday at- 
tire in honor of St. Nicholas. " It will brighten the 
children,” she thought to herself ; and she was not 
mistaken. This festival dress had been worn very 
seldom during the past ten years ; before that time 
it had -done good service, and had flourished at many 
a dance and kermis when she was known, far and 
wide, as the pretty Meitje Klenck. The children had 
sometimes been granted rare glimpses of it as it lay 
in state in the old oaken chest. Faded and thread- 
bare as it was, it was gorgeous in their eyes, with its 
white linen tucker, now gathered to her plump throat 
and vanishing beneath the trim bodice of blue home- 
spun, and its reddish-brown skirt bordered with black. 
The knitted woolen mitts and the dainty cap showing 
her hair, which generally was hidden, made her seem 
[ 38 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

almost like a princess to Gretel ; while Master Hans 
grew staid and well-behaved as he gazed. 

Soon the little maid, while braiding her own golden 
tresses, fairly danced around her mother in an ecstasy 
of admiration. 

" Oh, mother, mother, mother ! how pretty you 
are ! Look, Hans ! is n’t it just like a picture ? ” 

"Just like a picture," assented Hans, cheerfully — 
"just like a picture ; only I don’t like those stocking 
things on the hands." 

"Not like the mitts, Brother Hans ! why, they ’re 
very important. See, they cover up all the red. Oh, 
mother ! how white your arm is where the mitt leaves 
off ! — whiter than mine, oh, ever so much whiter ! 
I declare, mother, the bodice is tight for you. You ’re 
growing ; you ’re surely growing ! ’’ 

Dame Brinker laughed. 

" This was made long ago, lovey, when I was n’t 
much thicker about the waist than a churndasher. 
And how do you like the cap ? " turning her head 
from side to side. 

"Oh, ever so much, mother! It’s b-e-a-u-tiful ! 
See, the father is looking ! ’’ 

Was the father looking ? Alas ! only with a dull 
stare. His vrouw turned towards him with a start, 
something like a blush rising to her cheeks, a ques- 
tioning sparkle in her eye. The bright look died 
away in an instant. 

"No, no," she sighed ; "he sees nothing. Come, 
Hans" (and the smile crept faintly back again), "don’t 

[39] 


HANS BRINKER 

stand gaping at me all day, and the new skates wait- 
ing for you at Amsterdam.” 

"Ah, mother!” he answered, "you need many 
things. Why should I buy skates ? ” 

" Nonsense, child ! The money was given to you 
on purpose, or the work was — it ’s all the same 
thing. Go while the sun is high.” 

" Yes ; and hurry back, Hans ! ” laughed Gretel. 
" We ’ll race on the canal to-night if the mother 
lets us.” 

At the very threshold he turned to say, "Your 
spinning-wheel wants a new treadle, mother.” 

"You can make it, Hans.” 

"So I can. That will take no money. But you 
need feathers and wool and meal and — ” 

"There, there! that will do. Your silver cannot 
buy everything. Ah, Hans ! if our stolen money 
would but come back on this bright St. Nicholas’s 
Eve, how glad we would be ! Only last night I 
prayed to the good saint — ” 

" Mother ! ” interrupted Hans, in dismay. 

" Why not, Hans ? Shame on you to reproach me 
for that! I’m as true a Protestant, in sooth, as any 
fine lady that walks into church ; but it ’s no wrong 
to turn sometimes to the good St. Nicholas. Tut ! 
it ’s a likely story if one can’t do that without one’s 
children flaring up at it, and he the boys’ and girls’ 
own saint. Hoot! mayhap the colt is a steadier 
horse than the mare ? ” 

Hans knew his mother too well to offer a word 
[ 4 °] 





HANS BRINKER 


in opposition when her voice quickened and sharp- 
ened as it did now (it was often sharp and quick 
when she spoke of the missing money) ; so he said 
gently, "And what did you ask of the good St. 
Nicholas, mother ? ” 

" Why, to never give the thieves a wink of sleep 
till they brought it back, to be sure, if he ’s power 
to do such things ; or else to brighten our wits that 
we might find it ourselves. Not a sight have I had 
of it since the day before the dear father was hurt, 
as you well know, Hans.” 

" That I do, mother,” he answered sadly, "though 
you have almost pulled down the cottage in searching.” 

"Ay; but it was of no use,” moaned the dame. 
" * Hiders make best finders.’ ” 

Hans started. " Do you think the father could 
tell aught ? ” he asked mysteriously. 

"Ay, indeed,” said Dame Brinker, nodding her 
head. " I think so ; but that is no sign. I never 
hold the same belief in the matter two days. May- 
hap the father paid it off for the great silver watch 
we have been guarding since that day. But, no, I ’ll 
never believe it.” 

"The watch was not worth a quarter of the money, 
mother.” 

"No, indeed ! And your father was a shrewd man 
up to the last moment. He was too steady and thrifty 
for silly doings.” 

"Where did the watch come from, I wonder,” 
muttered Hans, half to himself 
[42] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


Dame Brinker shook her head and looked sadly 
toward her husband, who sat staring blankly at the 
floor. Gretel stood near him, knitting. 

" That we shall never know, Hans. I have shown 
it to the father many a time, but he does not know 
it from a potato. When he came in that dreadful 
night to supper, he handed the watch to me and 
told me to take good care of it until he asked for it 
again. Just as he opened his lips to say more, Broom 
Klatterboost came flying in with word that the dike 
was in danger. Ah ! the waters were terrible that 
holy Pinkster week. My man, alack ! caught up his 
tools and ran out. That was the last I ever saw of 
him in his right mind. He was brought in again by 
midnight, nearly dead, with his poor head all bruised 
and cut. The fever passed off in time, but never 
the dullness — that grew worse every day. We shall 
never know/’ 

Hans had heard all this before. More than once 
he had seen his mother, in hours of sore need, take 
the watch from its hiding place, half resolved to sell 
it, but she had always conquered the temptation. 

"No, Hans ! ” she would say, " we must be nearer 
starving than this before we turn faithless to the 
father.” 

A memory of some such scene came to the boy’s 
mind now, for, after giving a heavy sigh and filliping 
a crumb of wax at Gretel across the table, he said, 
"Ay, mother, you have done bravely to keep it ; many 
a one would have tossed it off for gold long ago.” 

[43] 


HANS BRINKER 

" And more shame for them ! ” exclaimed the 
dame, indignantly, "/would not do it. Besides, the 
gentry are so hard on us poor folks, that if they saw 
such a thing in our hands, even if we told all, they 
might suspect the father — ” 

Hans flushed angrily. 

" They would not dare to say such a thing, mother ! 
If they did, I’d — ” 

He clinched his fist, and seemed to think that the 
rest of his sentence was too terrible to utter in her 
presence. 

Dame Brinker smiled proudly through her tears at 
this interruption. 

" Ah, Hans ! thou ’rt a true, brave lad. We will 
never part company with the watch. In his dying 
hour the dear father might wake and ask for it.” 

" Might wake , mother ! ” echoed Hans ; "wake — 
and know us ? ” 

"Ay, child,” almost whispered his mother; "such 
things have been.” 

By This time Hans had nearly forgotten his pro- 
posed errand to Amsterdam. His mother had seldom 
spoken so familiarly with him. He felt himself now 
to be not only her son, but her friend, her adviser. 

"You are right, mother. We must never give up 
the watch. For the father’s sake we will guard it al- 
ways. The money, though, may come to light when 
we least expect it.” 

" Never ! ” cried Dame Brinker, taking the last 
stitch from her needle with a jerk, and laying the 

[ 44 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

unfinished knitting heavily upon her lap. " There is 
no chance. One thousand guilders — all gone in a 
day ! One thousand guilders ! Oh ! what ever did 
become of them ? If they went in an evil way, the 
thief would have confessed by this on his dying-bed ; 
he would not dare to die with such guilt on his soul.” 

" He may not be dead yet,” said Hans, soothingly; 
"any day we may hear of him.” 

"Ah, child! ” she said in a changed tone, "what 
thief would ever have come here ? It was always neat 
and clean, thank God ! but not fine ; for the father 
and I saved and saved, that we might have some- 
thing laid by. ' Little and often soon fills the pouch.’ 
We found it so in truth ; besides, the father had a 
goodly sum already, for service done to the Heer- 
nocht lands at the time of the great inundation. 
Every week we had a guilder left over, sometimes 
more ; for the father worked extra hours and could 
get high pay for his labor. Every Saturday night 
we put something by, except the time when you had 
the fever, Hans, and when Gretel came. At last the 
pouch grew so full that I mended an old stocking 
and commenced again. Now that I look back, it 
seems that the money was up to the heel in a few 
sunny weeks. There was great pay in those days if 
a man was quick at engineer work. The stocking 
went on filling with copper and silver, ay, and gold. 
You may well open your eyes, Gretel. I used to 
laugh and tell the father it was not for poverty I 
wore my old gown. And the stocking went on 

[45] 


HANS BRINKER 

filling, so full, that sometimes when I woke at night 
I’d get up, soft and quiet, and go feel it in the 
moonlight. Then, on my knees, I would thank our 
Lord that my little ones could in time get good 
learning and that the father might rest from labor 
in his old age. Sometimes, at supper, the father and 
I would talk about a new chimney and a good winter 
room for the cow ; but my man, forsooth, had finer 
plans even than that. 'A big sail,’ says he, 'catches 
the wind ; we can do what we will soon,’ and then 
we would sing together as I washed my dishes. Ah, 
* a smooth sea makes an easy rudder.’ Not a thing 
vexed me from morning till night. Every week the 
father would take out the stocking and drop in the 
money, and laugh, and kiss me, as we tied it up to- 
gether. Up with you, Hans ! there you sit gaping, 
and the day a-wasting ! ” added Dame Brinker, tartly, 
blushing to find that she had been speaking too 
freely to her boy. "It's high time you were on your 
way.” 

Hans had seated himself and was looking earnestly 
into her face. He arose and, in almost a whisper, 
asked, " Have you ever tried , mother ? ” 

She understood him. 

"Yes, child, often. But the father only laughs ; 
or he stares at me so strange, I am glad to ask no 
more. When you and Gretel had the fever last win- 
ter, and our bread was nearly gone, and I could earn 
nothing, for fear you would die while my face was 
turned, oh, I tried then! I smoothed his hair and 
[ 46 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


whispered to him soft as a kitten about the money 

— where it was, who had it ? Alack ! he would pick 
at my sleeve and whisper gibberish till my blood ran 
cold. At last, while Gretel lay whiter than snow, and 
you were raving on the bed, I screamed to him, — it 
seemed as if he must hear me, — ' Raff, where is our 
money ? Do you know aught of the money, Raff ? 

— the money in the pouch and the stocking, in the 
big chest ? ’ But I might as well have talked to a 
stone ; I might as — ” 

The mother’s voice sounded so strangely and her 
eye was so bright that Hans, with a new anxiety, laid 
his hand upon her shoulder. 

" Come, mother,” he said, " let us try to forget this 
money. I am big and strong; Gretel, too, is very 
quick and willing. Soon all will be prosperous with 
us again. Why, mother ! Gretel and I would rather 
see thee bright and happy than to have all the silver 
in the world. Would n’t we, Gretel ? ” 

"The mother knows it,” said Gretel, sobbing. 


[ 47 ] 



VI 


SUNBEAMS 

D AME BRINKER was startled at her chil- 
) dren’s emotion — glad, too, for it proved 
how loving and true they were. 

Beautiful ladies in princely homes often smile 
suddenly and sweetly, gladdening the very air 
around them ; but I doubt if their smile be more 
welcome in God’s sight than that which sprang 
forth to cheer the roughly clad boy and girl in the 
humble cottage. Dame Brinker felt that she had 
been selfish. Blushing and brightening, she hastily 
wiped her eyes, and looked upon them as only a 
mother can. 

" Hoity, toity ! Pretty talk we ’re having, and 
St. Nicholas’s Eve almost here! What wonder the 
yarn pricks my fingers ! Come, Gretel, take this 
cent ; and while Hans is trading for the skates, you 
can buy a waffle in the market place.” 

" Let me stay home with you, mother,” said 

[48] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

Gretel, looking up with eyes that sparkled through 
their tears. " Hans will buy me the cake.” 

"As you will, child. And, Hans — wait a moment. 
Three turns of the needle will finish this toe, and 
then you may have as good a pair of hose as ever 
was knitted (owning the yarn is a grain too sharp) 
to sell to the hosier on the Heireen Gracht. That 
will give us three quarter-guilders if you make good 
trade, and as it ’s right hungry weather, you may buy 
four waffles. We ’ll keep the Feast of St. Nicholas, 
after all.” 

Gretel clapped her hands. " That will be fine ! 
Annie Bouman told me what grand times they 
will have in the big houses to-night. But we 
shall be merry, too. Hans will have beautiful 
new skates, and then there ’ll be the waffles ! 
Oh-h ! Don’t break them, Brother Hans. Wrap 
them well, and button them under your jacket very 
carefully.” 

" Certainly,” replied Hans, quite gruff with pleas- 
ure and importance. 

"Oh, mother ! ” cried Gretel, in high glee, " soon 
you will be busied with the father, and now you are 
only knitting. Do tell us all about St. Nicholas.” 

Dame Brinker laughed to see Hans hang up his 
hat and prepare to listen. " Nonsense, children ! ” 
she said. " I have told it to you often.” 

" Tell us again ! oh, do tell us again ! ” cried 
Gretel, throwing herself upon the wonderful wooden 
bench that her brother had made on the mother’s 

[ 49 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


last birthday. Hans, not wishing to appear childish, 
and yet quite willing to hear the story, stood care- 
lessly swinging his skates against the fireplace. 

" Well, children, you shall hear it ; but we must 
never waste the daylight again in this way. Pick up 
your ball, Gretel, and let your sock grow as I talk. 
Opening your ears needn’t shut your fingers. St. 
Nicholas, you must know, is a wonderful saint. He 
keeps his eye open for the good of sailors, but he 
cares most of all for boys and girls. Well, once 
upon a time, when he was living on the earth, a 
merchant of Asia sent his three sons to a great city, 
called Athens, to get learning.” 

" Is Athens in Holland, mother ? ” asked Gretel. 

" I don’t know, child. Probably it is.” 

" Oh, no, mother ! ” said Hans, respectfully. " I 
had that in my geography lessons long ago. Athens 
is in Greece.” 

" Well,” resumed the mother, "what matter? 
Greece may belong to the king, for aught we know. 
Anyhow, this rich merchant sent his sons to Athens. 
While they were on their way, they stopped one 
night at a shabby inn, meaning to take up their 
journey in the morning. Well, they had very fine 
clothes — velvet and silk, it may be, such as rich 
folks children all over the world think nothing of 
wearing; and their belts, likewise, were full of 
money. What did the wicked landlord do but 
contrive a plan to kill the children and take their 
money and all their beautiful clothes himself? So 

[ 5 ° ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

that night, when all the world was asleep, he got up 
and killed the three young gentlemen.” 

Gretel clasped her hands and shuddered, but 
Hans tried to look as if killing and murder were 
everyday matters to him. 

" That was not the worst of it,” continued Dame 
Brinker, knitting slowly and trying to keep count of 
her stitches as she talked ; " that was not near the 
worst of it. The dreadful landlord went and cut up 
the young gentlemen’s bodies into little pieces and 
threw them into a great tub of brine, intending to 
sell them for pickled pork.” 

" Oh ! ” cried Gretel, horror-stricken, though she 
had often heard the story before. Hans still continued 
unmoved, and seemed to think that pickling was the 
best that could be done under the circumstances. 

" Yes, he pickled them ; and one might think 
that would have been the last of the young gentle- 
men. But no. That night St. Nicholas had a won- 
derful vision, and in it he saw the landlord cutting 
up the merchant’s children. There was no need of 
his hurrying, you know, for he was a saint ; but in 
the morning he went to the inn and charged the 
landlord with the murder. Then the wicked landlord 
confessed it from beginning to end, and fell down 
on his knees, begging forgiveness. He felt so sorry 
for what he had done that he asked the saint to 
bring the young masters to life.” 

" And did the saint do it ? ” asked Gretel, de- 
lighted, well knowing what the answer would be. 

[5i] 


HANS BRINKER 

"Of course he did. The pickled pieces flew 
together in a flash, and out jumped the young gen- 
tlemen from the brine-tub. They cast themselves at 
the feet of St. Nicholas, and he gave them his bless- 
ing, and — oh, mercy on us, Hans! it will be dark 
before you get back if you don’t start this minute." 

By this time Dame Brinker was almost out of 
breath and quite out of commas. She could not 
remember when she had seen the children idle away 
an hour of daylight in this manner, and the thought 
of such luxury quite appalled her. By way of com- 
pensation she now flew about the room in extreme 
haste. Tossing a block of peat upon the fire, blow- 
ing invisible dust from the table, and handing the 
finished hose to Hans, all in an instant, " Come, 
Hans," she said, as her boy lingered by the door, 
"what keeps thee?" 

Hans kissed his mother’s plump cheek, rosy and 
fresh yet, in spite of all her troubles. " My mother 
is the best in the world, and I would be right glad to 
have a pair of skates ; but " — and as he buttoned his 
jacket he looked in a troubled way toward a strange 
figure crouching by the hearthstone — " if my money 
would bring a meester from Amsterdam to see the 
father, something might yet be done." 

"A meester would not come, Hans, for twice that 
money ; and it would do no good if he did. Ah, 
how many guilders I once spent for that ! But the 
dear, good father would not waken. It is God’s will. 
Go, Hans, and buy the skates." 

[ 5 2 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

Hans started with a heavy heart ; but, since the 
heart was young and in a boy’s bosom, it set him 
whistling in less than five minutes. His mother had 
said " thee ” to him, and that was quite enough to 
make even a dark day sunny. Hollanders do not 
address each other in affectionate intercourse, as 
the French and Germans do. But Dame Brinker had 
embroidered for a Heidelberg family in her girlhood, 
and she had carried its " thee ” and " thou ” into her 
rude home, to be used in moments of extreme love 
and tenderness. 

Therefore " What keeps thee, Hans ? ” sang an 
echo-song beneath the boy’s whistling, and made him 
feel that his errand was blessed. 


[53] 




HANS HAS HIS WAY 

with its quiet, spotless streets, its 
rivulets, its yellow-brick pavements, 
and bright wooden houses, was near by. It 
was a village where neatness and show were in full 
blossom, but the inhabitants seemed to be either 
asleep or dead. 

Not a footprint marred the sanded paths, where 
pebbles and sea shells lay in fanciful designs. Every 
window shutter was closed as tightly as though air 
and sunshine were poison ; and the massive front 
doors were never opened except on the occasion of 
a wedding, a christening, or a funeral. 

Serene clouds of tobacco smoke were floating 
through hidden apartments ; and children, who other- 
wise might have awakened the place, were studying 
in out-of-the-way corners or skating upon the neigh- 
boring canal. A few peacocks and wolves stood in 
the gardens, but they had never enjoyed the luxury 

[ 54 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

of flesh and blood. They were cut out in growing 
box, and seemed guarding the grounds with a sort 
of green ferocity. Certain lively automatons — ducks, 
women, and sportsmen — were stored away in sum- 
merhouses, waiting for the springtime, when they 
could be wound up and rival their owners in anima- 
tion ; and the shining, tiled roofs, mosaic courtyards, 
and polished house trimmings flashed up a silent 
homage to the sky, where never a speck of dust 
could dwell. 

Hans glanced toward the village, as he shook his 
silver kwartjes , and wondered whether it were really 
true, as he had often heard, that some of the people 
of Broek were so rich that they used kitchen utensils 
of solid gold. 

He had seen Mevrouw van Stoop’s sweet cheeses 
in market, and he knew that the lofty dame earned 
many a bright silver guilder in selling them. But 
did she set the cream to rise in golden pans ? Did 
she use a golden skimmer ? When her cows were 
in winter quarters, were their tails really tied up 
with ribbons ? 

These thoughts ran through his mind as he turned 
his face toward Amsterdam, not five miles away, on 
the other side of the frozen Y. The ice upon the 
canal was perfect ; but his wooden runners, so soon 
to be cast aside, squeaked a dismal farewell, as he 
scraped and skimmed along. 

When crossing the Y, whom should he see skating 
toward him but the great Dr. Boekman, the most 

[Sill 


HANS BRINKER 


famous physician and surgeon in Holland ! Hans 
had never met him before, but he had seen his 
engraved likeness in many of the shop windows of 
Amsterdam. It was a face that one could never for- 
get. Thin and lank, though a born Dutchman, with 
stern blue eyes, and queer, compressed lips that 
seemed to say, "No smiling allowed,” he certainly 
was not a very jolly or sociable-looking personage 
nor one that a well-trained boy would care to accost 
unbidden. 

But Hans was bidden, and that, too, by a voice 
he seldom disregarded — his own conscience. 

" Here comes the greatest doctor in the world,” 
whispered the voice. " God has sent him. You have 
no right to buy skates when you might, with the same 
money, purchase such aid for your father.” 

The wooden runners gave an exultant squeak. 
Hundreds of beautiful skates were gleaming and 
vanishing in the air above him. He felt the money 
tingle in his fingers. The old doctor looked fearfully 
grim and forbidding. Hans’s heart was in his throat, 
but he found voice enough to cry out, just as he was 
passing, " Mynheer Boekman ! ” 

The great man halted and, sticking out his thin 
underlip, looked scowlingly about him. 

Hans was in for it now. 

" Mynheer,” he panted, drawing close to the fierce- 
looking doctor, " I knew you could be none other 
than the famous Boekman. I have to ask a great 
favor — ” 


[ 56 ] 



HANS BRINKER 

" Humph ! ” muttered the doctor, preparing to skate 
past the intruder. "Get out of the way — I’ve no 
money — never give to beggars.” 

" I am no beggar, Mynheer,” retorted Hans, 
proudly, at the same time producing his mite of 
silver with a grand air. " I wish to consult with 
you about my father. He is a living man, but sits 
like one dead. He cannot think. His words mean 
nothing. But he is not sick. He fell on the dikes.” 

" Hey ? what ? ” cried the doctor, beginning to 
listen. 

Hans told the whole story in an incoherent way, 
dashing off a tear once or twice as he talked, and 
finally ending with an earnest : " Oh, do see him, 
Mynheer ! His body is well ; it is only his mind. I 
know this money is not enough ; but take it, Myn- 
heer. I will earn more, I know I will. Oh, I will 
toil for you all my life if you will but cure my 
father ! ” 

What was the matter with the old doctor ? A 
brightness like sunlight beamed from his face. His 
eyes were kind and moist. The hand that had lately 
clutched his cane, as if preparing to strike, was laid 
gently upon Hans’s shoulder. 

" P ut U P your money, boy ; I do not want it. We 
will see your father. It is a hopeless case, I fear. 
How long did you say ? ” 

"Ten years, Mynheer,” sobbed Hans, radiant with 
sudden hope. 

Ah ! a bad case. But I shall see him. Let me 

£s»] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

think. To-day I start for Leyden, to return in a week; 
then you may expect me. Where is it ? ” 

" A mile south of Broek, Mynheer, near the canal. 
It is only a poor, broken-down hut. Any of the 
children thereabout can point it out to your honor,” 
added Hans, with a heavy sigh. " They are all half 
afraid of the place ; they call it the 'Idiot’s Cottage.’” 

" That will do,” said the doctor, hurrying on, with 
a bright backward nod at Hans ; "I shall be there. 
A hopeless case,” he muttered to himself, " but the 
boy pleases me. His eye is like my poor Laurens. 
Confound it ! shall I never forget that young scoun- 
drel ? ” And scowling more darkly than ever, the 
doctor pursued his silent way. 

Again Hans was skating toward Amsterdam, on 
the squeaking wooden runners ; again his fingers 
tingled against the money in his pocket; again the 
boyish whistle rose unconsciously to his lips. 

" Shall I hurry home,” he was thinking, "to tell 
the good news, or shall I get the waffles and the 
new skates first ? Whew ! I think I ’ll go on ! ” 
And so Hans bought the skates. 


. [59] 



VIII 

INTRODUCING JACOB POOT AND HIS COUSIN 
and Gretel had a fine frolic early on 



that St. Nicholas Eve. There was a bright 


J_L J_L moon ; and their mother, though she be- 
lieved herself to be without any hope of her hus- 
band’s improvement, had been made so happy at the 
prospect of the meester’s visit that she had yielded 
to the children’s entreaties for an hour’s skating 
before bedtime. 

Hans was delighted with his new skates and, in 
his eagerness to show Gretel how perfectly they 
''worked,” did many things upon the ice that caused 
the little maid to clasp her hands in solemn admira- 
tion. They were not alone, though they seemed 
quite unheeded by the various groups assembled 
upon the canal. 

The two Van Holps and Carl Schummel were 
there, testing their fleetness to the utmost. Out of 
four trials Peter van Holp had beaten three times. 


[ 60 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

Consequently, Carl, never very amiable, was in any- 
thing but a good humor. He had relieved himself 
by taunting young Schimmelpenninck, who, being 
smaller than the others, kept meekly near them, 
without feeling exactly like one of the party. But 
now a new thought seized Carl ; or, rather, he 
seized the new thought and made an onset upon 
his friends. 

" I say, boys, let’s put a stop to those young rag- 
pickers from the Idiot’s Cottage joining the race. 
Hilda must be crazy to think of it. Katrinka Flack 
and Rychie Korbes are furious at the very idea of 
racing with the girl, and, for my part, I don’t blame 
them. As for the boy, if we’ve a spark of manhood 
in us, we will scorn the very idea of — ” 

" Certainly we will,” interposed Peter van Holp, 
purposely mistaking Carl’s meaning. "Who doubts 
it ? No fellow with a spark of manhood in him 
would refuse to let in two good skaters just because 
they were poor.” 

Carl wheeled about savagely. 

"Not so fast, master! And I’d thank you not to 
put words in other people’s mouths. You ’d best not 
try it again.” 

" Ha, ha ! ” laughed little Voostenwalbert Schim- 
melpenninck, delighted at the prospect of a fight 
and sure that, if it should come to blows, his favorite 
Peter could beat a dozen excitable fellows like Carl. 

Something in Peter’s eye made Carl glad to turn to 
a weaker offender. He wheeled furiously upon Voost. 

[61] 


HANS BRINKER 

" What are you shrieking about, you little weasel ? 
You skinny herring you! you little monkey with a 
long name for a tail ! ” 

Half a dozen bystanders and by skaters set up an 
applauding shout at this brave witticism ; and Carl, 
feeling that he had fairly vanquished his foes, was 
restored to partial good humor. He, however, pru- 
dently resolved to defer plotting against Hans and 
Gretel until some time when Peter should not be 
present. 

Just then his friend Jacob Poot was seen approach- 
ing. They could not distinguish his features at first, 
but as he was the stoutest boy in the neighborhood/ 
there could be no mistaking his form. 

" Halloo ! here comes fatty ! ” exclaimed Carl. "And 
there ’s someone with him — a slender fellow, a 
stranger/’ 

"Ha, ha! that’s like good bacon,” cried Ludwig — 
" a streak of lean and a streak of fat.” 

" That ’s Jacob’s English cousin,” put in Master 
Voost, delighted at being able to give the informa- 
tion. " That ’s his English cousin ; and, oh, he ’s 
got such a funny little name ! — Ben Dobbs. He’s 
going to stay with him until after the grand race.” 

All this time the boys had been spinning, turning, 
"rolling,” and doing other feats upon their skates in 
a quiet way, as they talked ; but now they stood still, 
bracing themselves against the frosty air, as Jacob 
Poot and his friend drew near. 

"This is my cousin, boys,” said Jacob, rather out 

[62] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

of breath — " Benjamin Dobbs. He ’s a John Bull ; 
and he ’s going to be in the race.” 

All crowded, boy fashion, about the newcomers. 
Benjamin soon made up his mind that the Hol- 
landers, notwithstanding their queer gibberish, were 
a fine set of fellows. 

If the truth must be told, Jacob had announced 
his cousin as " Penchamin Dopps ” and called him 
a " Shon Pull ” ; but as I translate every word of 
the conversation of our young friends, it is no more 
than fair to mend their little attempts at English. 
Master Dobbs felt at first decidedly awkward among 
his cousin’s friends. Though most of them had 
studied English and French, they were shy about 
attempting to speak either ; and he made very funny 
blunders when he tried to converse in Dutch. He 
had learned that vrouw means "wife” and ja y "yes”; 
spoorweg , "railway”; kanaals, "canals”; stoomboot , 
"steamboat”; ophaalbmggen , "drawbridges”; buiten 
plasten , " country seats ” ; mynheer , "mister”; tweeg- 
evegt , "duel or two-fights”; koper , "copper”; zadel , 
" saddle ” ; but he could not make a sentence out of 
these, nor use the long list of phrases he had learned 
in his " Dutch Dialogues.” The topics of the latter 
were fine, but were never alluded to by the boys. 
Like the poor fellow who had learned in "Ollendorf” 
to ask in faultless German, " Have you seen my 
grandmother’s red cow?” and when he reached Ger- 
many discovered that he had no occasion to inquire 
after that interesting animal, Ben found that his book 

[63] 


HANS BRINKER 


Dutch did not avail him as much as he had hoped. 
He acquired a hearty contempt for Jan van Gorp, a 
Hollander who wrote a book in Latin to prove that 
Adam and Eve spoke Dutch ; and he smiled a know- 
ing smile when his Uncle Poot assured him that 
Dutch " had great likeness mit Zinglish, but it vash 
much petter languish, much petter." 

However, the fun of skating glides over all barriers 
of speech. Through this Ben soon felt that he knew 
the boys well ; and when Jacob (with a sprinkling 
of French and English for Ben’s benefit) told of a 
grand project they had planned, his cousin could now 
and then put in a ja or a nod in quite a familiar way. 

The project was a grand one, and there was to be 
a fine opportunity for carrying it out ; for besides the 
allotted holiday of the Festival of St. Nicholas, four 
extra days were to be allowed for a general cleaning 
of the schoolhouse. 

Jacob and Ben had obtained permission to go on 
a long skating journey ; no less a one than from 
Broek to The Hague, the capital of Holland — a 
distance of nearly fifty miles. 

"And now, boys," added Jacob, when he had told 
the plan, " who will go with us ? " 

" I will, I will ! " cried the boys, eagerly. 

"And so will I," ventured little Voostenwalbert. 

"Ha, ha ! " laughed Jacob, holding his fat sides 
and shaking his .puffy cheeks. " You go ? Such a 
little fellow as you ! Why, youngster, you have n’t 
left off your pads yet!" 


[ 64 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

Now in Holland very young children wear a thin, 
padded cushion around their heads, surmounted with 
a framework of whalebone and ribbon, to protect 
them in case of a fall ; and it is the dividing-line 
between babyhood and childhood when they leave it, 
off. Voost had arrived at this dignity several years 
before ; consequently Jacob’s insult was rather too 
great for endurance. 

" Look out what you say ! ” he squeaked. " Lucky 
for you when you can leave off your pads. You ’re 
padded all over ! ” • 

"Ha, ha ! ” roared all the boys except Master 
Dobbs, who could not understand. "Ha, ha!” and 
the good-natured Jacob laughed more than any. 

"It ish my fat — yaw — he say I bees pad mit 
fat ! ” he explained to Ben. 

So a vote was passed unanimously in favor of 
allowing the now popular Voost to join the party 
if his parents would consent. 

" Good night ! ” sang out the happy youngster, 
skating homeward with all his might. 

" Good night ! ” 

"We can stop at Haarlem, Jacob, and show your 
cousin the big organ,” said Peter van Holp, eagerly; 
" and at Leyden, too, where there ’s no end to the 
sights ; and spend a day and night at The Hague, for 
my married sister, who lives there, will be delighted to 
see us ; and the next morning we can start for home.” 

"All right,” responded Jacob, who was not much 
of a talker. 


[65] 


HANS BRINKER 


Ludwig had been regarding his brother with en- 
thusiastic admiration. 

" Hurrah for you, Pete ! It takes you to make 
plans. Mother ’ll be as full of it as we are when 
we tell her we can take her love direct to sister Van 
Gend. My! but it’s cold,” he added; "cold enough 
to take a fellow’s head off his shoulders. We ’d 
better go home.” 

" What if it is cold, old tender-skin ? ” cried Carl, 
who was busily practicing a step which he called the 
" double-edge:” " Great skating we should have by 
this time if it was as warm as it was last December. 
Don’t you know if it wasn’t an extra cold winter 
and an early one, into the bargain, we could n’t go ? ” 

"I know it ’s an extra cold night, anyhow,” said 
Ludwig. " Whew, I’m going home ! ” 

Peter van Holp took out a bulgy gold watch, and, 
holding it toward the moonlight as well as his be- 
numbed fingers would permit, called out : " Halloo, 
it ’s nearly eight o’clock ! St. Nicholas is about by 
this time ; and I, for one, want to see the little ones 
stare. Good night ! ” 

"Good night!” cried one and all; and off they 
started, shouting, singing, and laughing as they flew 
along. 

Where were Gretel and Hans? 

Ah ! how suddenly joy sometimes comes to an 
end ! 

They had skated about an hour — keeping aloof 
from the others, quite contented with each other ; 

[ 66 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

and Gretel had exclaimed: "Ah, Hans, how beau- 
tiful, how fine, to think that we both have skates ! 
I tell you the stork brought us good luck” — when 
they heard something. 

It was a scream, a very faint scream. No one 
else upon the canal observed it; but Hans knew its 
meaning too well. Gretel saw him turn white in 
the moonlight as he hastily tore off his skates. 

" The father ! ” he cried. " He has frightened our 
mother”; and Gretel ran after him toward the house 
as hard as she could. 


[67] 



IX 


THE FESTIVAL OF ST. NICHOLAS 



'E ALL know how, before the Christmas 
tree began to flourish in the home life of 
our country, a certain "right jolly old elf ” 
with " eight tiny reindeer ” used to drive his sleigh 
load of toys up to our housetops and then bound 
down the chimney to fill the stockings «o hopefully 
hung by the fireplace. His friends called him Santa 
Claus, and those who were most intimate ventured to 
say, "Old Nick.” It was said that he originally came 
from Holland. Doubtless he did ; but if so, he cer- 
tainly, like many other foreigners, changed his ways 
very much after landing upon our shores. In Holland 
St. Nicholas is a veritable saint and often appears in 
full costume, with his embroidered robes glittering 
with gems and gold, his miter, his crosier, and his 
jeweled gloves. Here Santa Claus comes rollicking 
along on the 25th of December, our holy Christmas 
morn; but in Holland St. Nicholas visits earth on 
[ 68 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

the 5th, a time especially appropriated to him. Early 
on the morning of the 6th, which is St. Nicholas 
Day, he distributes his candies, toys, and treasures, 
then vanishes for a year. 

Christmas Day is devoted by the Hollanders to 
church rites and pleasant family visiting. It is on 
St. Nicholas Eve that their young people become half 
wild with joy and expectation. To some of them it 
is a sorry time ; for the saint is very candid, and if 
any of them have been bad during the past year, he 
is quite sure to tell them so. Sometimes he carries 
a birch rod under his arm and advises the parents 
to give them scoldings in place of confections, and 
floggings instead of toys. 

It was well that the boys hastened to their abodes 
on that bright winter evening, for in less than an 
hour afterwards the saint made his appearance in 
half the homes of Holland. He visited the king’s 
palace and, in the selfsame moment, appeared in 
Annie Bouman’s comfortable home. Probably one of 
our silver half dollars would have purchased all that 
his saintship left at the peasant Bouman’s. But a 
half dollar’s worth will sometimes do for the poor 
what hundreds of dollars may fail to do for the rich 
— it makes them happy and grateful, fills them with 
new peace and love. 

Hilda van deck’s little brothers and sisters were 
in a high state of excitement that night. They had 
been admitted into the grand parlor ; they were dressed 
in their best, and had been given two cakes apiece 

[69] 


HANS BRINKER 

at supper. Hilda was as joyous as any. Why not? 
St. Nicholas would never cross a girl of fourteen 
from his list just because she was tall and looked 
almost like a woman. On the contrary, he would 
probably exert himself to do honor to such an august- 
looking damsel. Who could tell ? So she sported 
and laughed and danced as gayly as the youngest, 
and was the soul of all their merry games. Father, 
mother, and grandmother looked on approvingly ; 
so did grandfather, before he spread his large red 
handkerchief over his face, leaving only the top of 
his skullcap visible. This kerchief was his ensign 
of sleep. 

Earlier in the evening all had joined in the fun. 
In the general hilarity, there had seemed to be a 
difference only in bulk between grandfather and the 
baby. Indeed, a shade of solemn expectation now and 
then flitting across the faces of the younger mem- 
bers had made them seem rather more thoughtful 
than their elders. 

Now the spirit of fun reigned supreme. The very 
flames danced and capered in the polished grate. 
A pair of prim candles that had been staring at the 
astral lamp began to wink at other candles far away 
in the mirrors. There was a long bell-rope suspended 
from the ceiling in the corner, made of glass beads, 
netted over a cord nearly as thick as your wrist. It 
generally hung in the shadow and made no sign; 
but to-night it twinkled from end to end. Its handle 
of crimson glass sent reckless dashes of red at 
[7o] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

the papered wall, turning its dainty blue stripes 
into purple. Passers-by halted to catch the merry 
laughter floating through curtain and sash, into the 
street, then skipped on their way with a startled 
consciousness that the village was wide awake. At 
last matters grew so uproarious that the grandsire’s 
red kerchief came down from his face with a jerk. 
What decent old gentleman could sleep in such a 
racket ! Mynheer van Gleck regarded his children 
with astonishment. The baby even showed symp- 
toms of hysterics. It was high time to attend to 
business. Mevrouw suggested that if they wished 
to see the good St. Nicholas, they should sing the 
same loving invitation that had brought him the 
year before. 

The baby stared and thrust his fist into his mouth, 
as mynheer put him down upon the floor. Soon he 
sat erect and looked with a sweet scowl at the com- 
pany. With his lace and embroideries and his crown 
of blue ribbon and whalebone (for he was not quite 
past the tumbling age), he looked like the king of 
the babies. 

The other children, each holding a pretty willow 
basket, formed at once in a ring and moved slowly 
around the little fellow, lifting their eyes meanwhile ; 
for the saint to whom they were about to address 
themselves was yet in mysterious quarters. 

Mevrouw commenced playing softly upon the piano ; 
soon the voices rose — gentle, youthful voices, ren- 
dered all the sweeter for their tremor: 

[71 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


"Welcome, friend! St Nicholas, welcome! 

Bring no rod for us to-night ! 

While our voices bid thee welcome, 

Every heart with joy is light. 

" Tell us every fault and failing ; 

We will bear thy keenest railing. 

So we sing, so we sing : 

Thou shalt tell us everything ! 

" Welcome, friend ! St. Nicholas, welcome ! 

Welcome to this merry band ! 

Happy children greet thee, welcome ! 

Thou art gladdening all the land. 

" Fill each empty hand and basket ; 

’T is thy little ones who ask it. 

So we sing, so we sing : 

Thou wilt bring us everything ! ” 

During the chorus sundry glances, half in eager- 
ness, half in dread, had been cast toward the polished 
folding doors. Now a loud knocking was heard. The 
circle was broken in an instant. Some of the little 
ones, with a strange mixture of fear and delight, 
pressed against their mother’s knee. Grandfather 
bent forward, with his chin resting upon his hand ; 
grandmother lifted her spectacles ; Mynheer van 
Gleck, seated by the fireplace, slowly drew his 
meerschaum from his mouth ; while Hilda and the 
other children settled themselves beside him in an 
expectant group. 

The knocking was heard again. 

[ 7 2 ] 





HANS BRINKER 

" Come in,” said the mevrouw, softly. 

The door slowly opened and St. Nicholas, in full 
array, stood before them. You could have heard a pin 
drop. Soon he spoke. What a mysterious majesty 
in his voice ! What kindliness in his tones ! 

" Karel van Gleck, I am pleased to greet thee, 
and thy honored vrouw , Kathrine, and thy son, and 
his good vrouw , Annie. 

" Children, I greet ye all — Hendrick, Hilda, 
Broom, Katy, Huygens, and Lucretia, and thy cousins 
— Wolfert, Diedrich, Mayken, Voost, and Katrina. 
Good children ye have been, in the main, since I 
last accosted ye. Diedrich was rude at the Haarlem 
fair last fall, but he has tried to atone for it since. 
Mayken has failed of late in her lessons, and too 
many sweets and trifles have gone to her lips and 
too few stivers to her charity box. Diedrich, I trust, 
will be a polite, manly boy for the future ; and May- 
ken will endeavor to shine as a student. Let her 
remember, too, that economy and thrift are needed 
in the foundation of a worthy and generous life. 
Little Katy has been cruel to the cat more than 
once. St. Nicholas can hear the cat cry when its 
tail is pulled. I will forgive her, if she will remem- 
ber from this hour that the smallest dumb creatures 
have feeling and must not be abused.” 

As Katy burst into a frightened cry, the saint 
graciously remained silent until she was soothed. 

" Master Broom,” he resumed, ” I warn thee that 
boys who are in the habit of putting snuff upon the 

[ 74 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

foot stove of the school mistress may one day be 
discovered and receive a flogging ” (Master Broom 
colored and stared in great astonishment); '’but thou 
art such an excellent scholar, I shall make thee no 
further reproof. 

" Thou, Hendrick, didst distinguish thyself in the 
archery match last spring, and hit the doel, though 
the bird was swung before it to unsteady thine eye. 
I give thee credit for excelling in manly sport and 
exercise, though I must not unduly countenance thy 
boat-racing, since it leaves thee too little time for thy 
proper studies. 

" Lucretia and Hilda shall have a blessed sleep 
to-night. The consciousness of kindness to the poor, 
devotion in their souls, and cheerful, hearty obedience 
to household rule will render them happy. 

" With one and all I avow myself well content. 
Goodness, industry, benevolence, and thrift have pre- 
vailed in your midst. Therefore, my blessing upon 
you; and may the New Year find all treading the 
paths of obedience, wisdom, and love ! To-morrow 
you shall find more substantial proofs that I have 
been in your midst. Farewell ! ” 

With these words came a great shower of sugar- 
plums upon a linen sheet spread out in front of the 
doors. A general scramble followed. The children 
fairly tumbled over each other in their eagerness to 
fill their baskets. Mevrouw cautiously held the baby 
down in their midst till the chubby little fists were 
filled. Then the bravest of the youngsters sprang 

[ 75 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

up and burst open the closed door. In vain they 
peered into the mysterious apartment. St. Nicholas 
was nowhere to be seen. 

Soon there was a general rush to another room, 
where stood a table covered with the finest and 
whitest of linen damask. Each child, in a flutter of 
excitement, laid a shoe upon it. The door was then 
carefully locked and its key hidden in the mother’s 
bedroom. Next followed good-night kisses, a grand 
family procession to the upper floor, merry farewells 
at bedroom doors, and silence, at last, reigned in the 
Van Gleck mansion. 


[76] 



X 


WHAT THE BOYS SAW AND DID IN 
AMSTERDAM 



A 


RE we all here ? ” cried Peter, in high glee, 


as the party assembled upon the canal, 
early the next morning, equipped for their 
skating journey. " Let me see. As Jacob has made 
me captain, I must call the roll. Carl Schummel, 
you here ? ” 

" Ya ! ” 


" Jacob Poot?” 

" Ya ! ” 

" Benjamin Dobbs ? ” 

" Ya-a ! ” 

" Lambert van Mounen ? ” 

" Ya ! ” 

" That ’s lucky ! Could n’t get on without you , as 
you ’re the only one who can speak English. Ludwig 
van Holp ? ” 

" Ya ! ” 


[ 77 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Voostenwalbert Schimmelpenninck ? ” 

No answer. 

" Ah ! the little rogue has been kept at home. 
Now, boys, it ’s just eight o’clock, glorious weather, 
and the Y is as firm as a rock. We ’ll be at 
Amsterdam in thirty minutes. One, two, three — 
start ! ” 

True enough. In less than half an hour they had 
crossed a dike of solid masonry and were in the very 
heart of the great metropolis of the Netherlands — a 
walled city of ninety-five islands and nearly two hun- 
dred bridges. Although Ben had been there twice 
since his arrival in Holland, he saw much to excite 
wonder ; but his Dutch comrades, having lived near 
by all their lives, considered it the most matter-of- 
course place in the world. Everything interested 
Ben — the tall houses, with their forked chimneys, 
and gabled ends facing the street; the merchants’ 
warerooms, perched high up under the roofs of their 
dwellings, with long, armiike cranes hoisting and 
lowering goods past the household windows ; the 
grand public buildings, erected upon wooden piles 
driven deep into the marshy ground ; the narrow 
streets ; the canals everywhere crossing the city ; the 
bridges ; the locks ; the various costumes ; and, 
strangest of all, shops and dwellings crouching close 
to the fronts of the churches, sending their long, 
disproportionate chimneys far upward along the 
sacred walls. 

If he looked up, he saw tall, leaning houses, 
[ 78 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


seeming to pierce the sky with their shining roofs; 
if he looked down, there was the queer street, with- 
out crossing or curb, nothing to separate the cobble- 
stone pavement from the footpath of brick ; and if 
he rested his eyes halfway, he saw complicated little 
mirrors fastened upon the outside of nearly every 
window, so arranged that the inmates of the houses 
could observe all that was going on in the street 
or inspect whoever might be knocking at the door 
without being seen themselves. 

Sometimes a dogcart, heaped with woodenware, 
passed him ; then a donkey, bearing a pair of 
panniers filled with crockery or glass ; then a sled 
driven over the bare cobblestones (the runners kept 
greased with a dripping oil rag, so that it might run 
easily) ; and then, perhaps, a showy but clumsy 
family carriage, drawn by the brownest of Flanders 
horses, swinging the whitest of snowy tails. 

Fortunately the weather was cold enough to put a 
stop to the usual street-flooding and window-washing, 
or our young excursionists might have been drenched 
more than once. Sweeping, mopping, and scrubbing 
form a passion with Dutch housewives, and to soil 
their spotless mansions is considered scarcely less 
than a crime. Everywhere a hearty contempt is felt 
for those who neglect to rub the soles of their shoes 
to a polish before crossing the doorsill, and in 
certain places visitors are expected to remove their 
heavy shoes before entering. 

[ 79 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


While Ben was skating with his friends upon the 
crowded canals of the city, he found it difficult to 
believe that the sleepy Dutchmen he saw around him, 
smoking their pipes so leisurely and looking as though 
their hats might be knocked off their heads without 
their making any resistance, were capable of those out- 
breaks which had taken place in Holland ; that they 
were really fellow countrymen of the brave, devoted 
heroes of whom he had read in Dutch history. 

"There’s the corner,” said Jacob, pointing to 
some large buildings, " where, about fifteen years 
ago, the great corn-houses sank down in the mud. 
They were strong affairs and set upon good piles, 
but they had over seventy thousand hundredweight 
of corn in them, and that was too much.” 

It was a long story for Jacob to tell, and he 
stopped to rest. 

"How do you know there were seventy thousand 
hundredweight in them ? ” asked Carl, sharply. 
"You were in your swaddling-clothes then.” 

" My father knows all about it,” was Jacob’s 
suggestive reply. Rousing himself with an effort, 
he continued, " Ben likes pictures ; show him some.” 

"All right,” said the captain. 

"If we had time, Benjamin,” said Lambert Van 
Mounen, in English, " I should like to take you to 
the City Hall, or Stadhms. There are building- 
piles for you ! It is built on nearly fourteen thousand 
of them, driven seventy feet into the ground. But 
[80] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

what I wish you to see there is the big picture of 
Van Speyk blowing up his ship — great picture.” 

" Van who ? ” asked Ben. 

" Van Speyk. Don’t you remember ? He was in 
the height of an engagement with the Belgians ; and 
when he found that they had the better of him and 
would capture his ship, he blew it up, and himself 
too, rather than yield to the enemy.” 

" Was n’t that Van Tromp ? ” 

" Oh, no ! , Van Tromp was another brave fellow. 
They ’ve a monument to him down at Delfshaven 
— the place where the Pilgrims took, ship for 
America.” 

" Well, what about Van Tromp ? He was a great 
Dutch admiral, was n’t he ? ” 

" Yes ; he was in more than thirty sea fights. He 
beat the Spanish fleet and an English one, and then 
fastened a broom to his masthead to show that he 
had swept the English from the sea. Takes the 
Dutch to beat, my boy ! ” 

" Hold up 1 ” cried Ben. " Broom, or no broom, 
the English conquered him at last. I remember all 
about it now. He was killed somewhere on the 
Dutch coast, in an engagement in which the British 
fleet was victorious. Too bad ! ” he added maliciously, 
" was n’t it ? ” 

" Ahem ! where are we ? ” exclaimed Lambert, 
changing the subject. " Halloo ! the others are away 
ahead of us — all but Jacob. Whew ! how fat he is ! 
He ’ll break down before we ’re halfway.” 

[ 8 1 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Ben, of course, enjoyed skating beside Lambert, 
who, though a stanch Hollander, had been educated 
near London and could speak English as fluently 
as Dutch ; but he was not sorry when Captain 
van Holp called out : " Skates off ! There ’s the 
museum ! ” 

It was open, and there was no charge on that day 
for admission. In they went, shuffling, as boys will 
when they have a chance, just to hear the sound of 
their shoes on the polished floor. 

"Come, boys!" cried the captain; "ten o’clock, 
time we were off ! ’’ 

They hastened to the canal. 

" Skates on ! Are you ready ? One, two — halloo ! 
where ’s Poot ? ’’ 

Sure enough, where was Poot ? 

A square opening had just been cut in the ice 
not ten yards off. Peter observed it and without a 
word skated rapidly toward it. 

All the others followed, of course. 

Peter looked in. They all looked in ; then stared 
anxiously at each other. 

" Poot ! ’’ screamed Peter, peering into the hole 
again. All was still. The black water gave no sign ; 
it was already glazing on top. 

Van Mounen turned mysteriously to Ben. 

" Did ri t he have a fit once ? ” 

" My goodness, yes ! ’’ answered Ben, in a great 
fright. 


[82] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


"Then, depend upon it, he’s been taken with 
one in the museum ! ” 

The boys caught his meaning. Every skate was 
off in a twinkling. Peter had the presence of mind 
to scoop up a capful of water from the hole, and off 
they scampered to the rescue. 

Alas ! they did, indeed, find poor Jacob in a fit, 
but it was a fit of sleepiness. There he lay in a 
recess of the gallery, snoring like a trooper. The 
chorus of laughter that followed this discovery 
brought an angry official to the spot. 

" What now ? None of this racket ! Here, you 
beer barrel, wake up ! ” and Master Jacob received a 
very unceremonious shaking. 

As soon as Peter saw that Jacob’s condition was 
not serious, he hastened to the street to empty his 
unfortunate cap. While he was stuffing in his hand- 
kerchief to prevent the already frozen crown from 
touching his head, the rest of the boys came down, 
dragging the bewildered and indignant Jacob in 
their midst. 

The order to start was again given. Master Poot 
was wide awake at last. The ice was a little rough 
and broken just there ; but every boy was in high 
spirits. 

" Shall we go on by the canal or the river ? ” 
asked Peter. 

" Oh, the river, by all means ! ’’ said Carl. " It 
will be such fun. They say it is perfect skating all 
the way ; but it ’s much farther.’’ 

[83] 


HANS BRINKER 

Jacob Poot instantly became interested. 

" I vote for the canal ! ” he cried. 

"Well, the canal it shall be,” responded the 
captain, " if all are agreed.” 

" Agreed ! ” they echoed in rather a disappointed 
tone ; and Captain Peter led the way. 

" All right come on. We can reach Haarlem in 
an hour.” 


[84] 



XI 


BIG MANIAS AND LITTLE ODDITIES 


W: 


^^J^^HILE skating along at full speed they 
heard the cars from Amsterdam coming 
close behind them. 

" Halloo ! ” cried Ludwig, glancing toward the 
rail-track, "who can beat a locomotive? Let’s give 
it a race.” 

The whistle screamed at the very idea ; so did the 
boys, and at it they went. 

For an instant the boys were ahead, hurrahing 
with all their might — only for an instant, but even 
that was something. 

This excitement over, they began to travel more 
leisurely and indulge in conversation and frolic. 
Sometimes they stopped to exchange a word with 
the guards, who were stationed at certain distances 
along the canal. These men, in winter, attend to 
keeping the surface free from obstruction and gar- 
bage. After a snowstorm they are expected to sweep 

[85] 


HANS BRINK ER 


the feathery covering away before it hardens into a 
marble, pretty to look at, but very unwelcome to 
skaters. Now and then the boys so far forgot their 
dignity as to clamber among the ice-bound canal 
boats, crowded together in a widened harbor off the 
canal, but the watchful guards would soon spy them 
out and order them down with a growl. 

Nothing could be straighter than the canal upon 
which our party were skating, and nothing straighter 
than the long rows of willow trees that stood, bare 
and wispy, along the bank. On the opposite side, 
lifted high above the surrounding country, lay the 
carriage road on top of the great dike built to keep 
the Haarlem Lake within bounds. Stretching out 
far in the distance, until it became lost in a point, 
was the glassy canal with its many skaters, its brown- 
winged ice-boats, its push chairs, and its queer little 
sleds, light as cork, flying over the ice by means of 
iron-pronged sticks in the hands of the riders. Ben 
was in ecstasy with the scene. 

Ludwig van Holp had been thinking how strange 
it was that the English boy should know so much of 
Holland. According to Lambert’s account he knew 
more about it than the Dutch did. This did not quite 
please our young Hollander. Suddenly he thought of 
something that he believed would make the " Shon 
Pull ” open his eyes. He drew near Lambert with 
a triumphant, "Tell him about the tulips ! ” 

Ben caught the word tulpen. 

"Oh, yes!" said he eagerly in English. "The 

[ 86 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

tulip mania — are you speaking of that ? I have 
often heard it mentioned, but know very little about 
it. It reached its height in Amsterdam, didn’t it?” 

Ludwig moaned. The words were hard to under- 
stand, but there was no mistaking the enlightened 
expression on Ben’s face. Lambert, happily, was 
quite unconscious of his young countryman’s distress 
as he replied, "Yes, here and in Haarlem, princi- 
pally ; but the excitement ran high all over Holland, 
and in England too, for that matter.” 

" Hardly in England, I think,” said Ben ; " but I 
am not sure, as I was not there at the time.” 

" Ha, ha ! that ’s true, unless you are over two 
hundred years old. Well, I tell you, sir, there was 
never anything like it before nor since. Why, per- 
sons were so crazy after tulip bulbs in those days 
that they paid their weight in gold for them.” 

" What, the weight of a man ? ” cried Ben, show- 
ing such astonishment in his eyes that Ludwig 
fairly capered. 

" No, no ! the weight of a bulb. The first tulip 
was sent here from Constantinople, about the year 
1560. It was so much admired that the rich people 
of Amsterdam sent to Turkey for more. From that 
time they grew to be the rage ; and it lasted for 
years. Single roots brought from one to four thou- 
sand florins ; and one bulb, the Semper Augustus, 
brought fifty-five hundred.” 

" That ’s more than four hundred guineas of our 
money,” interposed Ben. 

[87] 


HANS BRINKER 


"Yes, and I know I’m right; for I read it in a 
translation from Beckman, only day before yesterday. 
Well, sir, it was great. Everyone speculated in 
tulips, even the bargemen and rag-women and chim- 
ney-sweeps. The richest merchants were not ashamed 
to share the excitement. People bought bulbs x and 
sold them again at a tremendous profit without ever 
seeing them. It grew into a kind of gambling. 
Some became rich by it in a few days, and some 
lost everything they had. Land, houses, cattle, and 
even clothing went for tulips when people had no 
ready money. Ladies sold their jewels and finery to 
enable them to join in the fun. Nothing else was 
thought of. At last the states-general interfered. 
People began to see what geese they were making 
of themselves ; and down went the price of tulips. 
Old tulip debts could n’t be collected. Creditors 
went to law, and the law turned its back upon them — 
debts made in gambling were not binding, it said. 
Then there was a time !• thousands of rich specula- 
tors reduced to beggary in an hour. As old Beckman 
says, ' the bubble was burst at last.’ ” 

Yes, and a big bubble it was,’’ said Ben, who 
had listened with great interest. "By the way, did 
you know that the name tulip came from a Turkish 
word signifying ' turban ’ ? ” 

"I had forgotten that,’’ answered Lambert, "but 
it s a capital idea. Just fancy a party of Turks in 
full headgear squatted upon a lawn — perfect tulip 
bed f Ha, ha ! capital idea ! ” 

[ 88 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" There,” groaned Ludwig to himself, "he’s been 
telling Lambert something wonderful about tulips ; 
I knew it ! ” 

"The fact is," continued Lambert, "you can con- 
jure up quite a human picture out of a tulip bed in 
bloom, especially when it is nodding and bobbing in 
the wind. Did you ever notice it?" 

" Not I. It strikes me, Van Mounen, that you Hol- 
landers are prodigiously fond of the flower to this day." 

" Certainly. You can’t have a garden without 
them — prettiest flower that grows, / think. My 
uncle has a magnificent bed of the finest varieties at 
his summerhouse on the other side of Amsterdam." 

" I thought your uncle lived in the city?" 

"So he does ; but his summerhouse, or pavilion, 
is a few miles off. He has another one built out 
over the river. We passed near it when we entered 
the city. Everybody in Amsterdam has a pavilion 
somewhere, if he can." 

"Do they ever live there?" asked Ben. 

"'Bless you, no ! They are small affairs, suitable 
only to spend a few hours in on summer afternoons. 
There are some beautiful ones on the southern end 
of the Haarlem Lake ; now that they ’ve commenced 
to drain it into polders, it will spoil that fun. By 
the way, we ’ve passed some red-roofed ones since 
we left home. You noticed them, I suppose, with 
their little bridges and ponds and gardens, and their 
mottoes over the doorway." 

Ben nodded. 


[89] 


HANS BRINKER 


"They make but little show now," continued Lam- 
bert, "but in warm weather they are delightful. 
After the willows sprout uncle goes to his summer- 
house every afternoon. He dozes and smokes ; aunt 
knits, with her feet perched upon a foot stove, never 
mind how hot the day ; my cousin Rika and the 
other girls fish in the lake from the windows or chat 
with their friends rowing by ; and the youngsters 
tumble about or hang upon the little bridges over 
the ditch. Then they have coffee and cakes, besides 
a great bunch of water lilies on the table. It ’s very 
fine, I can tell you ; only (between ourselves), though 
I was born here, I shall never fancy the odor of 
stagnant water that hangs about most of the summer- 
houses. Nearly every one you see is built over a 
ditch. Probably I feel it more, from having lived so 
long in England." 

"Perhaps I shall notice it too," said Ben, "if a 
thaw comes. This early winter has covered up the 
fragrant waters for my benefit. Much obliged to it. 
Holland without this glorious skating wouldn’t be 
the same thing to me at all." 

"How very different you are from the Poots ! " 
exclaimed Lambert, who had been listening in a sort 
of brown study, " and yet you are cousins. I cannot 
understand it." 

"We are cousins, or, rather, we have always con- 
sidered ourselves such; but the relationship is not 
very close. Our grandmothers were half-sisters. My 
side of the family is entirely English, while his is 

[90] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

entirely Dutch. Old Great-grandfather Poot married 
twice, you see ; and I am a descendant of his Eng- 
lish wife. I like Jacob, though, better than half of 
my English cousins put together. He is the truest- 
hearted, best-natured boy I ever knew. Strange as 
you may think it, my father became accidentally ac- 
quainted with Jacob’s father while on a business visit 
to Rotterdam. They soon talked over their relation- 
ship (in French by the way) ; and they have corre- 
sponded in that language ever since. Queer things 
come about in this world. My sister Jenny would 
open her eyes at some of Aunt Poot’s ways. Aunt 
is a thorough lady, but so different from mother ! 
And the house, too, and furniture, and way of living ; 
everything is different.” 

" Of course,” assented Lambert, complacently (as 
if to say, " You could scarcely expect such general 
perfection anywhere else than in Holland ”) ; " but 
you will have all the more to tell Jenny when you 
go back.” 

" Yes, indeed! I can say one thing — if cleanli- 
ness is, as they claim, next to godliness, Broek is 
safe. It is the cleanest place I ever saw in my life. 
Why, my Aunt Poot, rich as she is, scrubs half the 
time ; and her house looks as if it were varnished 
all over. I wrote to mother yesterday that I could 
see my double always with me, feet to feet, in the 
polished floor of the dining-room.” 

" Your double ! That word puzzles me. What do 
you mean ? ” 

[9i] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Oh ! my reflection, my apparition — Ben Dobbs 
number two.” 

"Ah, I see!” exclaimed Van Mounen. "Have 
you ever been in your Aunt Poot’s grand parlor ? ” 

Ben laughed. " Only once, and that was on the day 
of my arrival. Jacob says I shall have no chance of 
entering it again until the time of his sister Kenau’s 
wedding — the week after Christmas. Father has 
consented that I shall remain to witness the great 
event. Every Saturday Aunt Poot and her fat Kate 
go into that parlor and sweep and polish and scrub ; 
then it is darkened and closed until Saturday comes 
again ; not a soul enters it in the meantime. But 
the schoonmaken , as she calls it, must be done, just 
the same.” 

" That is nothing. Every parlor in Broek meets 
with the same treatment,” said Lambert. " What do 
you think of those moving figures in her neighbor’s 
garden ? ” 

" Oh ! they ’re well enough. The swans must seem 
really alive, gliding about the pond in summer ; but 
that nodding mandarin in the corner, under the 
chestnut trees, is ridiculous, only fit for children 
to laugh at. And then the stiff garden patches, 
and the trees, all trimmed and painted ! Excuse 
me, Van Mounen, but I shall never learn to admire 
Dutch taste.” 

" It will take time,” answered Lambert, conde- 
scendingly, "but you are sure to agree with it at 
last. I saw much to admire in England, and I hope 
[92 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

I shall be sent back with you to study at Oxford ; 
but take everything together, I like Holland better.” 

" Of course you do,” said Ben, in a tone of hearty 
approval ; " you would n’t be a good Hollander if 
you did n’t. Nothing like loving one’s country. It is 
strange, though, to have such a warm feeling for 
such a cold place. If we were not exercising all the 
time, we should freeze outright.” 

Lambert laughed. 

" That ’s your English blood, Benjamin ; I'm not 
cold. And look at the skaters here on the canal ! 
they ’re red as roses and happy as lords. Halloo, 
good Captain van Holp ! ” called out Lambert in 
Dutch; "what say you to stopping at yonder farm- 
house and warming our toes ? ” 

''Who is cold ? ” asked Peter, turning around. 

" Benjamin Dobbs.” 

" Benjamin Dobbs shall be warmed ” ; and the 
party was brought to a halt. 


[93] 



XII 


ON THE WAY TO HAARLEM 



,N APPROACHING the door of the farm- 
house the boys suddenly found themselves 
in the midst of a lively domestic scene. A 
burly Dutchman came rushing out, closely followed 
by his dear vrouw ; and she was beating him smartly 
with a long-handled warming-pan. The expression on 
her face gave our boys so little promise of a kind 
reception that they prudently resolved to carry their 
toes elsewhere to be warmed. 

The next cottage proved to be more inviting. Its 
low roof of bright red tiles extended over the cow- 
stable, that, clean as could be, nestled close to the 
main building. A neat, peaceful-looking old woman 
sat at one window, knitting. At the other could be 
discerned part of the profile of a fat figure, that, pipe 
in mouth, sat behind the shining little panes and 
snowy curtain. In answer to Peter’s subdued knock 
a fair-haired, rosy-cheeked lass in holiday attire 

[ 94 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

opened the upper half of the green door (which was 
divided across the middle) and inquired their errand. 

"May we enter and warm ourselves, jufvrouw ? ” 
asked the captain, respectfully. 

"Yes, and welcome,” was the reply, as the lower 
half of the door swung open. Every boy, before 
entering, rubbed long and faithfully upon the rough 
mat within ; and each made his best bow to the old 
lady and gentleman at the windows. Ben was half in- 
clined to think that these personages were automa- 
tons, like the moving figures in the garden at Broek ; 
for they both nodded their heads slowly, in precisely 
the same way, and both went on with their employ- 
ment as steadily and stiffly as though they worked 
by machinery. The old man puffed, puffed ; and his 
vronw clicked her knitting-needles as if regulated 
by internal cogwheels. Even the real smoke issuing 
from the motionless pipe gave no convincing proof 
that they were human. 

But the rosy-cheeked maiden! Ah, how she bus- 
tled about! How she gave the boys polished, high- 
backed chairs to sit upon ! How she made the fire 
blaze up as if it were inspired ! How she made 
Jacob Poot almost -weep for joy by bringing forth a 
great square of gingerbread and a stone jug of sour 
wine ! How she laughed and nodded as the boys ate 
like wild animals on good behavior ! and how blank 
she looked when Ben politely but firmly refused to 
take any black-bread and sauerkraut ! How she 
pulled off Jacob’s mitten, which was torn at the 

[ 95 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

thumb, and mended it before his eyes, biting off the 
thread with her white teeth, and saying, "Now it 
will be warmer," as she bit ! and, finally, how she 
shook hands with every boy in turn and, throwing a 
deprecating glance at the female automaton, insisted 
upon filling their pockets with gingerbread ! 

All this time the knitting-needles clicked on and 
the pipe never missed a puff. 

When the boys were fairly on their way again, 
they came in sight of Zwanenburg Castle, with its 
massive stone front and its gateway towers, each 
surmounted with a sculptured swan. 

" Half w eg, boys," said Peter; "off with your 
skates ! " 

"You see,” explained Lambert to his companion, 
" the Y and the Haarlem Lake, meeting here, make 
it rather troublesome. The river is five feet higher 
than the land, so we must have everything strong in 
the way of dikes and sluice gates, or there would be 
wet work at once. The sluice arrangements here are 
supposed to be something extra. We will walk over 
them, and you shall see enough to make you open 
your eyes. The spring water of the lake, they say, 
has the most wonderful bleaching powers of any in 
the world ; all the great Haarlem bleacheries use it. 
I can’t say much upon that subject, but I can tell 
you one thing from personal experience." 

" What is that ? " 

" Why, the lake is full of the biggest eels you 
ever saw. I ’ve caught them here, often — perfectly 
[ 96 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

prodigious ! I tell you they ’re sometimes a match 
for a fellow ; they ’d almost wriggle your arm from 
the socket if you were not on your guard. But 
you ’re not interested in eels, I perceive. The castle ’s 
a big affair, is n’t it ? ” 

u Yes. What do those swans mean ? Anything ? ” 
asked Ben, looking up at the stone gate-towers. 

"The swan is held almost in reverence by us 
Hollanders. These give the building its name, 
Zwanenburg — swan castle. That is all I know.’’ 


[97] 



XIII 

A CATASTROPHE 

ITT WAS nearly one o’clock when Captain van 
Holp and his command entered the grand old 
J-L city of Haarlem. They had skated nearly seven- 
teen miles since morning and were still as fresh as 
young eagles. From the youngest (Ludwig van Holp, 
who was just fourteen) to the eldest (no less a per- 
sonage than the captain himself, a veteran of seven- 
teen), there was but one opinion — that this was the 
greatest frolic of their lives. To be sure, Jacob Poot 
had become rather short of breath during the last 
mile or two, and perhaps he felt ready for another 
nap ; but there was enough jollity in him yet for a 
dozen. Even Carl Schummel, who had become 
very intimate with Ludwig during the excursion, 
forgot to be ill-natured. As for Peter, he was the 
happiest of the happy ; his joyous song and merry 
whistle, as he skated along, had cheered many a 
passer-by that day. 


[ 98 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

"Come, boys, it’s nearly tiffin hour,” he said, as 
they neared a coffeehouse on the main street. "We 
must have something more solid than the pretty 
maiden’s gingerbread ” ; and the captain plunged his 
hands into his pockets, as if to say, "There’s money 
enough here to feed an army ! ” 

" Halloo ! ” cried Lambert. "What ails the man ?” 

Peter, pale and staring, was clapping his hands 
upon his breast and sides ; he looked like one sud- 
denly becoming deranged. 

" He ’s sick ! ” cried Ben. 

"No, he ’s lost something,” said Carl. 

Peter could only gasp, " The pocketbook, with all 
our money in it — it ’s gone ! ” 

For an instant all were too much startled to speak. 

Carl at last came out with a gruff : "No sense in 
letting one fellow have all the money. I said so from 
the first. Look in your other pocket.” 

"I did; it isn’t there.” 

" Open your under-jacket.” 

Peter obeyed mechanically. He even took off his 
hat and looked into it, then thrust his hand desper- 
ately into every pocket. 

" It ’s gone, boys,” he said at last, in a hopeless 
tone. " No tiffin for us, nor dinner neither. What 
is to be done ? We can’t get on without money. If 
we were in Amsterdam I could get as much as we 
want ; but there is not a man in Haarlem from whom 
I can borrow a stiver. Don’t one of you know anyone 
here who would lend us a few guilders ? ” 

[ 99 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Each boy looked into five blank faces. Then some- 
thing like a smile passed around the circle ; but it got 
sadly knotted up when it reached Carl. 

"That wouldn’t do,” he said crossly. "I know 
some people here, rich ones, too ; but father would 
flog me soundly if I borrowed a cent from anyone. 
He has 'an honest man need not borrow’ written 
over the gateway of his summerhouse.” 

" Humph ! ” responded Peter, not particularly ad- 
miring the sentiment just at that moment. 

The boys grew desperately hungry at once. 

" It wash my fault,” said Jacob, in a penitent tone, 
to Ben. "I say first, * Petter all de boys put zair 
pursh into Van Holp’s monish.’ ” 

" Nonsense, Jacob ! you did it all for the best.” 

Ben said this in such a sprightly tone that the two 
Van Holps and Carl felt sure he had proposed a plan 
that would relieve the party at once. 

" What, what ? Tell us, Van Mounen,” they cried. 

"He says it is not Jacob’s fault that the money is 
lost ; that he did it for the best, when he proposed 
that Van Holp should put all of our money into his 
purse.” 

" Is that all?” said Ludwig, dismally. " He need 
not have made such a fuss in just saying that. How 
much money have we lost ? ” 

"Don’t you remember?” said Peter. "We each 
put in exactly ten guilders. The purse had sixty 
guilders in it. I am the stupidest fellow in the 
world. Little Schimmelpenninck would have made 
[100] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


you a better captain. I could pommel myself for 
bringing such a disappointment upon you.” 

" Do it, then !” growled Carl. " Pooh,” he added, 
" we all know it was an accident ; but that does n’t 
help matters. We must have money, Van Holp, even 
if you have to sell your wonderful watch.” 

" Sell my mother’s birthday present ? Never ! I 
will sell my coat, my hat — anything but my watch.” 

" Come, come,” said Jacob, pleasantly; "we are 
making too much of this affair. We can go home, 
and start again in a day or two.” 

" You may be able to get another ten-guilder 
piece,” said Carl ; " but the rest of us will not find 
it so easy. If we go home, we stay home, you may 
depend.” 

Our captain, whose good nature had not yet for- 
saken him for a moment, grew indignant 

" Do you think I will let you suffer for my care- 
lessness?” he exclaimed. "I have three times sixty 
guilders in my strong box at home ! ” 

" Oh ! I beg your pardon,” said Carl, hastily; add- 
ing, in a surlier tone, "well, I see no better way 
than to go back hungry.” 

" I see a better plan than that,” said the captain. 

" What is it ? ” cried all the boys. 

" Why, to make the best of a bad business and go 
back pleasantly and like men,” said Peter, looking so 
gallant and handsome, as he turned his frank face 
and clear blue eyes upon them, that they caught 
his spirit. 


[ 101 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Ho, for the captain ! " they shouted. 

" Now, boys, we may as well make up our minds 
there’s no place like Broek, after all, and that we 
mean to be there in two hours. Is that agreed to ?” 

"Agreed ! ’’ cried all, as they ran to the canal. 

" On with your skates ! Are you ready ? Here, 
Jacob, let me help you." 

" Now. One, two, three — start ! " 

And the boyish faces that left Haarlem at that 
signal were nearly as bright as those that had en- 
tered it with Captain Peter half an hour before. 


[ 102 ] 



XIV 

HANS 


k ONDER and Blixin ! ” cried Carl, angrily, 
before the party had skated twenty yards 
from the city gates, "if there isn’t that 
wooden-skate ragamuffin in the patched leather 
breeches ! That fellow is everywhere, confound 
him ! We ’ll be lucky,” he added, in as sneering a 
tone as he dared to assume, "if our captain doesn’t 
order us to halt and shake hands with him.” 

"Your captain is a terrible fellow,” said Peter, 
pleasantly. " But this is a false alarm, Carl ; I 
cannot spy your bugbear anywhere among the 
skaters. Ah, there he is ! Why, what is the matter 
with the lad ? ” 

Poor Hans ! His face was pale, his lips com- 
pressed. He skated like one under the effects of a 
fearful dream. Just as he was passing, Peter hailed 
him. 

" Good day, Hans Brinker ! ” 

[ io 3 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

Hans’s countenance brightened at once. " Ah, 
Mynheer ! is that you ? It is well we meet ! ” 

"Just like his impertinence ! ’’ hissed Carl Schum- 
mel, darting scornfully past his companions, who 
seemed inclined to linger with their captain. 

"I am glad to see you, Hans," responded Peter, 
cheerily ; " but you look troubled. Can I serve you? ” 

" I have a trouble, Mynheer," answered Hans, 
casting down his eyes. Then lifting them again with 
almost a happy expression, he added, " But it is 
Hans who can help Mynheer van Holp this time." 

" How ?" asked Peter, making, in his blunt Dutch 
way, no attempt to conceal his surprise. 

" By giving you this , Mynheer," and Hans held 
forth the missing purse. 

" Hurrah ! " shouted the boys, taking their cold 
hands from their pockets to wave them joyfully in the 
air. But Peter said, " Thank you, Hans Brinker ! " in a 
tone that made Hans feel as if the king had knelt to him. 

The shout of the delighted boys reached the muf- 
fled ears of the fine young gentleman who, under a 
full pressure of pent-up wrath, was skating toward 
Amsterdam. A Yankee boy would have wheeled 
about at once and hastened to satisfy his curiosity. 
But Carl only halted and, with his back toward his 
party, wondered what on earth had happened. There 
he stood, immovable, until, feeling sure that nothing 
but the prospect of something to eat could have made 
them hurrah so heartily, he turned and skated slowly 
toward his excited comrades. 

[ io 4 ] 





HANS BRINKER 

Meantime Peter had drawn Hans aside from the 
rest. 

"How did you know it was my purse ? " he asked. 

"You paid me three guilders yesterday, Mynheer, 
for making the whitewood chain, telling me that I 
must buy skates." 

"Yes, I remember." 

" I saw your purse then ; it was of yellow leather." 

" And where did you find it to-day ? " 

" I left my home this morning, Mynheer, in great 
trouble ; and as I skated I took no heed, until I 
stumbled against some lumber, and while I was rub- 
bing my knee I saw your purse, nearly hidden under 
a log." 

" That place ! Ah, I remember, now ; just as we 
were passing it I pulled my tippet from my pocket, 
and probably flirted out the purse at the same time. 
It would have been gone but for you, Hans. Here," 
pouring out the contents, " you must give us the 
pleasure of dividing the money with you." 

" No, Mynheer," answered Hans. He spoke 
quietly, without pretense or any grace of manner ; 
but Peter somehow felt rebuked and put the silver 
back without a word. 

" I like that boy, rich or poor," he thought to 
himself, then added aloud, " May I ask about this 
trouble of yours, Hans ? " 

" Ah, Mynheer ! it is a sad case. But I have 
waited here too long. I am going to Leyden to see 
the great Dr. Boekman." 

t 106 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


"Dr. Boekman ! ” exclaimed Peter, in astonishment. 

"Yes, Mynheer; and I have not a moment to 
lose. Good day ! ” 

" Stay ; I am going that way. Come, my lads ! 
shall we return to Haarlem ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” cried the boys, eagerly; and off they started. 

" Now,” said Peter, drawing near Hans, both 
skimming the ice so easily and lightly as they skated 
on together that they seemed scarce conscious of 
moving, " we are going to stop at Leyden ; and if 
you are going there only with a message to Dr. 
Boekman, cannot I do the errand for you ? The 
boys may be too tired to skate so far to-day, but I 
will promise to see him early to-morrow if he is to 
be found in the city.” 

" Ah, Mynheer ! that would be serving me indeed. 
It is not the distance I dread, but leaving my mother 
so long.” 

" Is she ill ? ” 

" No, Mynheer. It is the father. You may have 
heard it — how he has been without wit for many a 
year, ever since the great Schlossen Mill was built ; 
but his body has been well and strong. Last night 
the mother knelt upon the hearth to blow the peat (it 
is his only delight to sit and watch the live embers ; 
and she will blow them into a blaze every hour of 
the day, to please him). Before she could stir he 
sprang upon her like a giant and held her close to 
the fire, all the time laughing and shaking his head. 
I was on the canal ; but I heard the mother scream 

[ io 7 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


and ran to her. The father had never loosened 
his hold ; and her gown was smoking. I tried to 
deaden the fire, but with one hand he pushed me 
off. There was no water in the cottage or I could 
have done better ; and all that time he laughed, such 
a terrible laugh, Mynheer ! hardly a sound, but all in 
his face. I tried to pull her away, but that only 
made it worse. Then — it was dreadful ; but could 
I see the mother burn ? I beat him — beat him with 
the stool. He tossed me away. The gown was on 
fire. I would put it out. I can’t remember well 
after that ; I found myself upon the floor, and the 
mother was praying. It seemed to me that she was 
in a blaze ; and all the while I could hear that laugh. 
My sister Gretel screamed out that he was holding 
the mother close to the very coals ; I could not tell ! 
Gretel flew to the closet, filled a porringer with the 
food he liked, and put it upon the floor; Then, 
Mynheer, he left the mother and crawled to it like a 
little child. She was not burned, only a part of her 
clothing. Ah, how kind she was to him all night ! 
watching and tending him. He slept in a high fever, 
with his hand pressed to his head. The mother says 
he has done that so much of late, as though he felt 
pain there. Ah, Mynheer, I did not mean to tell 
you. If the father was himself, he would not harm 
even a kitten.” 

For a moment the two boys moved on in silence. 

" It is terrible,” said Peter, at last. " How is 
he to-day ? ” 


[ 1 °8 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


" Very sick, Mynheer.” 

11 Why go for Dr. Boekman, Hans? There are 
others in Amsterdam who could help him perhaps. 
Boekman is a famous man, sought only by the 
wealthiest; and they often wait upon him in vain.” 

" He promised , Mynheer ; he promised me yester- 
day to come to the father in a week. But now that 
the change has come we cannot wait — we think 
the poor father is dying. Oh, Mynheer ! you can 
plead with him to come quick. He will not wait a 
whole week, and our father dying, the good meester 
is so kind.” 

" So kind\ ” echoed Peter, in astonishment. " Why, 
he is known as the crossest man in Holland ! ” 

"He looks so because he has no fat, and his head 
is busy ; but his heart is kind, I know. Tell the 
meester what I have told you, Mynheer, and he will 
come.” 

" I hope so, Hans, with all my heart. You are in 
haste to turn homeward, I see. Promise me that, 
should you need a friend, you will go to my mother, 
at Broek. Tell her I bade you see her. And, Hans 
Brinker, not as a reward, but as a gift, take a few of 
these guilders.” 

Hans shook his head resolutely. 

" No, no, Mynheer ! I cannot take it. If I could 
find work in Broek or at the South Mill I would be 
glad. But it is the same story everywhere — 'Wait 
till spring.’ ” 

"It is well you speak of it,” said Peter, eagerly ; 
[ io 9 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


''for my father needs help at once. Your pretty 
chain pleased him much. He said, ' That boy has a 
clean cut; he would be good at carving.’ There is 
to be a carved portal to our new summerhouse, and 
father will pay well for the job.” 

" God is good ! ” cried Hans, in sudden delight. 
" Oh, Mynheer, that would be too much joy ! I have 
never tried big work ; but I can do it, I know I can.” 

" Well, tell my father you are the Hans Brinker 
of whom I spoke. He will be glad to serve you.” 

Hans stared in honest surprise. 

" Thank you, Mynheer ! ” 

" Now, captain,” shouted Carl, anxious to appear 
as good-humored as possible, by way of atonement, 
“ here we are in the midst of Haarlem, and no word 
from you yet. We await your orders, and we ’re as 
hungry as wolves.” 

Peter made a cheerful answer and turned hurriedly 
to Hans. 

" Come, get something to eat, and I will detain 
you no longer.” 

What a quick, wistful look Hans threw upon him ! 
Peter wondered that he had not noticed before that 
the poor boy was hungry. 

" Ah, Mynheer ! even now the mother may need 
me ; the father may be worse. I must not wait. 
May God care for you ! And nodding hastily, 
Hans turned his face homeward and was gone. 

" Come, boys,” sighed Peter, "now for our tiffin 1” 

[no] 



HOMES 

TTT MUST not be supposed that our young Dutch- 
men had already forgotten the great skating race 
-ii. which was to take place on the 20th. On the 
contrary, they had thought and spoken of it very 
often' during the day. Even Ben, though he had 
felt more like a traveler than the rest, had never 
once, through all the sight-seeing, lost a certain 
vision of silver skates, which for a week past had 
haunted him night and day. 

Like a true "John Bull,” as Jacob had called him, 
he never doubted that his English fleetness, English 
strength, English everything, could at any time en- 
able him, on the ice, to put all Holland to shame, 
and the rest of the world, too, for that matter. Ben, 
certainly, was a superb skater. He had enjoyed not 
half the opportunities for practicing that had fallen 
to his new comrades, but he had improved his share 
to the utmost, and was, besides, so strong of frame, 


HANS BRINKER 

so supple of limb, in short, such a tight, trim, quick, 
graceful fellow in every way, that he had taken to 
skating as naturally as a chamois to leaping or an 
eagle to soaring. 

Only to the heavy heart of poor Hans had the 
vision of the silver skates failed to appear during 
that starry winter night and the brighter sunlit day. 

Even Gretel had seen them flitting before her as 
she sat beside her mother through those hours of 
weary watching — not as prizes to be won, but as 
treasures passing hopelessly beyond her reach. 

Rychie, Hilda, and Katrinka — why, they had 
scarcely known any other thought than " the race, 
the race ! It will come off on the 20th ! ” 

These three girls were friends. Though of nearly 
the same age, talent, and station, they were as 
different as girls could be. 

Hilda van Gleck you already know — a warm- 
hearted, noble girl of fourteen. Rychie Korbes was 
beautiful to look upon, far more sparkling and pretty 
than Hilda, but not half so bright and sunny within. 
Clouds of pride, of discontent and envy, had already 
gathered in her heart, and were growing bigger and 
darker every day. Of course these often relieved 
themselves, very much after the manner of other 
clouds. But who saw the storms and the weeping ? 
Only her maid, or her father, mother, and little 
brother — those who loved her better than all. Like 
other clouds, too, hers often took queer shapes, and 
what was really but mist and vapory fancy assumed 
[112] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

the appearance of monster wrongs and mountains of 
difficulty. To her mind the poor peasant-girl Gretel 
was not a human being, a God-created creature like 
herself; she was only something that meant “poverty, 
rags, and dirt.” Such as Gretel had no right to feel, 
to hope ; above all, they should never cross the paths 
of their betters — that is, not in a disagreeable way. 
They could toil and labor for them at a respectful 
distance, even admire them, if they would do it 
humbly, but nothing more. If they rebel, put them 
down ; if they suffer, don’t trouble me about it, was 
Rychie’s secret motto. And yet how witty she was ! 
how tastefully she dressed ! how charmingly she 
sang ! how much feeling she displayed (for pet kit- 
tens and rabbits) ! and how completely she could 
bewitch sensible, honest-minded lads like Lambert 
van Mounen and Ludwig van Holp ! 

Carl was too much like her, within, to be an 
earnest admirer ; and perhaps he suspected the 
clouds. He, being deep and surly and always uncom- 
fortably in earnest, of course preferred the lively 
Katrinka, whose nature was made of a hundred 
tinkling bells. She was a coquette in her infancy, a 
coquette in her childhood, and now a coquette in 
her school-days. Without a thought of harm she 
coquetted with her studies, her duties, even her little 
troubles. They should n’t know when they bothered 
her, not they. She coquetted with her mother, her 
pet lamb, her baby brother, even with her own 
golden curls, tossing them back as if she despised 

[ JI 3 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


them. Everyone liked her ; but who could love her ? 
She was never in earnest. A pleasant face, a pleas- 
ant heart, a pleasant manner — these only satisfy for 
an hour. Poor, happy Katrinka ! Such as she tinkle, 
tinkle, so merrily through their early days. But life 
is so apt to coquette with them, in turn; to put all 
their sweet bells out of tune, or to silence them one 
by one ! 

How different were the homes of these three girls 
from the tumbling old cottage where Gretel dwelt ! 
Rychie lived in a beautiful house near Amsterdam, 
where the carved sideboards were laden with services 
of silver and gold, and where silken tapestries hung 
in folds from ceiling to floor. 

Hilda’s father owned the largest mansion in Broek. 
Its glittering roof of polished tiles and its boarded 
front, painted in half a dozen various colors, were 
the admiration of the neighborhood. 

Katrinka’s home, not a mile distant, was the finest 
of Dutch countryseats. The garden was so stiffly laid 
out in little paths and patches that the birds might 
have mistaken it for a great Chinese puzzle, with all 
the pieces spread out ready for use. But in summer 
it was beautiful. The flowers made the best of their 
stiff quarters and, when the gardener was not watch- 
ing, glowed and bent and twined about each other 
in the prettiest way imaginable. Such a tulip bed ! 
Why, the queen of the fairies would never care 
for a grander city in which to hold her court ! 
But Katrinka preferred the bed of pink-and-white 

[ 1 x 4 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


hyacinths. She loved their freshness and fragrance 
and the light-hearted way in which their bell-shaped 
blossoms swung in the breeze. 

Carl was both right and wrong when he said that 
Katrinka and Rychie were furious at the very idea 
of the peasant Gretel joining in the race. He had 
heard Rychie declare it was “disgraceful, shameful, 
too bad ! ” which in Dutch, as in English, is gen- 
erally the strongest expression an indignant girl can 
use. And he had seen Katrinka nod her pretty head, 
and heard her sweetly echo, “ shameful, too bad ! ” 
as nearly like Rychie as tinkling bells can be like 
the voice of real anger. That had satisfied him. He 
never suspected that had Hilda, not Rychie, first 
talked with Katrinka upon the subject the bells 
would have jingled as willing an echo. She would 
have said, “ Certainly, let her join us,” and would 
have skipped off, thinking no more about it. But 
now Katrinka, with sweet emphasis, pronounced it a 
shame that a goose-girl, a forlorn little creature like 
Gretel, should be allowed to spoil the race. 

Rychie, being rich and powerful (in a schoolgirl 
way), had other followers besides Katrinka, who were 
induced to share her opinions because they were 
either too careless or too cowardly to think for 
themselves. 

Poor little Gretel ! her home was sad and dark 
enough now. Raff Brinker lay moaning upon his 
rough bed ; and his vrouw , forgetting and forgiving 
everything, bathed his forehead, his lips, weeping, 

[ "S] 


HANS BRINKER 


and praying that he might not die. Hans, as we 
know, had started in desperation for Leyden, to search 
for Dr. Boekman and induce him, if possible, to 
come to their father at once. Gretel, filled with a 
strange dread, had done the work as well as she 
could, wiped the rough brick floor, brought peat to 
build up the slow fire, and melted ice for her mother’s 
use. This accomplished, she seated herself upon a 
low stool near the bed and begged her mother to try 
and sleep awhile. 

"You are so tired!” she whispered. "Not once 
have you closed your eyes since that dreadful hour 
last night. See, I have straightened the willow bed in 
the corner and spread everything soft upon it I could 
find, so that the mother might lie in comfort. Here 
is your jacket. Take off that pretty dress. I ’ll fold 
it away very careful and put it in the big chest 
before you go to sleep.” 

Dame Brinker shook her head, without turning 
her eyes from her husband’s face. 

" I can watch, mother,” urged Gretel ; " and I ’ll 
wake you every time the father stirs. You are so 
pale, and your eyes are so red ! Oh, mother, do ! ” 

The child pleaded in vain. Dame Brinker would 
not leave her post. 

Gretel looked at her in troubled silence, wonder- 
ing whether it were very wicked to care more for 
one parent than for the other, and sure, yes, quite 
sure, that she dreaded her father, while she clung to 
her mother with a love that was almost idolatry. 

[ II6 ] 



HANS BRINKER 

"Hans loves the father so well," she thought, 
"why cannot I ? Yet I could not help crying when 
I saw his hand bleed that day, last month, when he 
snatched the knife; and now, when he moans, how 
I ache — ache all over! Perhaps I love him, after 
all, and God will see I am not such a bad, wicked 
girl as I thought. Yes, I love the poor father, almost 
as Hans does — not quite; for- Hans is stronger, and 
does not fear him. Oh ! will that moaning go on 
forever and ever ? Poor mother, how patient she is ! 
She never pouts, as I do, about the money that went 
away so strange. If he only could, just for one in- 
stant, open his eyes and look at us, as Hans does, 
and tell us where mother’s guilders went, I would 
not care for the rest. Yes, I would care ; I don’t 
want the poor father to die, to be all blue and cold, 
like Annie Bouman’s little sister — I know I don’t. 
Dear God, I don’t want father to die.’’ 

Her thoughts merged into a prayer. When it 
ended the poor child scarcely knew. Soon she found 
herself watching a little pulse of light at the side of 
the fire, beating faintly, but steadily, showing that 
somewhere in the dark pile there was warmth and 
light that would overspread it at last. A large earthen 
cup filled with burning peat stood near the bedside ; 
Gretel had placed it there to " stop the father’s shiv- 
ering,’’ she said. She watched it as it sent a glow 
around the mother’s form, tipping her faded skirt 
with light and shedding a sort of newness over the 
threadbare bodice. It was a relief to Gretel to see 
[118] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

the lines in that weary face soften as the firelight 
flickered gently across it* 

Next she counted the windowpanes, broken and 
patched as they were, and finally, after tracing every 
crack and seam in the walls, fixed her gaze upon a 
carved shelf made by Hans. The shelf hung as 
high as Gretel could reach. It held a large, leather- 
covered Bible with brass clasps — a wedding present 
to Dame Brinker from the family at Heidelberg. 

"Ah, how handy Hans is! If he were here, he 
could turn the father some way so the moans would 
stop. Dear, dear ! if this sickness lasts we shall never 
skate any more. I must send my new skates back 
to the beautiful lady. Hans and I will not see the 
race"; and Gretel’s eyes, that had been dry before, 
grew full of tears. 

"Never cry, child," said her mother, soothingly. 
" This sickness may not be as bad as we think. The 
father has lain this way before." 

Gretel sobbed now. 

" Oh, mother ! it is not that alone ; you do not 
know all. I am very, very bad and wicked ! " 

" You, Gretel! you so patient and good!" and a 
bright, puzzled look beamed for an instant upon the 
child. " Hush, lovey ! you ’ll wake him." 

Gretel hid her face in her mother’s lap and tried 
not to cry. 

Her little hand, so thin and brown, lay in the 
coarse palm of her mother, creased with many a hard 
day’s work. Rychie would have shuddered to touch 

[ ” 9 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

either ; yet they pressed warmly upon each other. 
Soon Gretel looked up with that dull, homely look, 
which they say poor children in shanties are apt to 
have, and said in a trembling voice, " The father 
tried to burn you, he did ; I saw him — and he was 
laughing ! ” 

"Hush, child!" 

The mother’s words came so suddenly and sharply 
that Raff Brinker, dead as he was to all that was 
passing round him, twitched slightly upon the bed. 

Gretel said no more, but plucked drearily at the 
jagged edge of a hole in her mother’s holiday gown. 
It had been burned there. Well for Dame Brinker 
that the gown was woolen. 






[ 120 ] 



XVI 


HAARLEM — THE BOYS HEAR VOICES 

[“"REFRESHED and rested, our boys came forth 
from the coffeehouse just as the big clock 



in the square, after the manner of certain 
Holland timekeepers, was striking two with its 
half-hour bell for half-past two. 

The captain was absorbed in thought, at first, for 
Hans Brinker’s sad story still echoed in his ears. 
Not until Ludwig rebuked him with a laughing, 
" Wake up, grandfather ! ” did he reassume his posi- 
tion as gallant boy-leader of his band. 

" Ahem ! This way, young gentlemen ! ” 

They were walking through the streets of the city, 
not on a curbed sidewalk (for such a thing is rarely 
to be found in Holland), but on the brick pavement 
that lay on the borders of the cobblestone carriage- 
way without breaking its level expanse. 

Haarlem, like Amsterdam, was gayer than usual, 
in honor of St. Nicholas. 

[ 121 ] 



HANS BRINKER 


A strange figure was approaching them. It was 
a small man, dressed in black, with a short cloak. 
He wore a wig and a cocked hat, from which a long 
crape streamer was flying. 

"Who comes here?” cried Ben. "What a queer- 
looking objecU” 

"That’s the aanspreeker ,” said Lambert. "Some- 
one is dead.” 

" Is that the way men dress in mourning in this 
country ? ” 

" Oh, no ! The aanspreeker attends funerals ; and 
it is his business, when anyone dies, to notify all the 
friends and relatives.” 

" What a strange custom ! ” 

"Well,” said Lambert, "we needn’t feel very 
bad about this particular death, for I see another 
man has lately been born to the world to fill up the 
vacant place.” 

Ben stared. " How do you know that ? ” 

" Don’t you see that pretty red pincushion hang- 
ing on yonder door?” asked Lambert, in return. 

" Yes.” 

"Well, that’s a boy.” 

" A boy ! What do you mean ? ” 

" I mean that here in Haarlem, whenever a boy 
is born, the parents have a red pincushion put out 
at the door. If our young friend had been a girl 
instead of a boy the cushion would have been white. 
In some places they have much more fanciful affairs, 
all trimmed with lace ; and even among the very 
[122] 




OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


poorest houses you will see a bit of ribbon, or even 
a string, tied on the door latch.” 

" Look ! ” almost screamed Ben. " There is a 
white cushion at the door of that double-jointed 
house with the funny roof ! ” 

" I don’t see any house with a funny roof.” 

" Oh, of course not ! ” said Ben. " I forget 
you ’re a native. But all the roofs are queer to me, 
for that matter. I mean the house next to that 
green building.” 

"True enough, there’s a girl! I tell you what, 
captain,” called out Lambert, slipping easily into 
Dutch, " we must get out of this street as soon as 
possible. It ’s full of babies. They ’ll set up a 
squall in a moment.” 

The captain laughed. "I shall take you to hear 
better music than that,” he said. "We are just in 
time to hear the organ of St. Bavon. The church 
is open to-day.” 

" What, the great Haarlem organ ? ” asked Ben. 
" That will be a treat, indeed. I have often read of 
it, with its tremendous pipes, and its vox humana 
that sounds like a giant singing.” 

"The same,” answered Lambert van Mounen. 

Peter was right. The church was open, though 
not for religious services. Someone was playing 
upon the organ. As the boys entered a swell of 
sound rushed forth to meet them. It seemed to 
bear them, one by one, into the shadows of the 
building. 


[ 1 2 3 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

Louder and louder it grew, until it became like 
the din and roar of some mighty tempest or like the 
ocean surging upon the shore. In the midst of the 
tumult a tinkling bell was heard ; another answered, 
then another, and the storm paused as if to listen. 
The bells grew bolder ; they rang out loud and clear. 
Other deep-toned bells joined in ; they were tolling 
in solemn concert — ding-dong, ding-dong ! The 
storm broke forth again with redoubled fury, gather- 
ing its distant thunder. The boys looked at each 
other, but did not speak. It was growing serious. 
What was that ? Who screamed ? What screamed 
— that terrible, musical scream ? Was it man or 
demon ? Or was it some monster, shut up behind 
that carved brass frame, behind those great silver 
columns — some despairing monster, begging, scream- 
ing, for freedom ? It was the vox humana ! 

At last an answer came — soft, tender, loving, 
like a mother’s song. The storm grew silent. 
Hidden birds sprang forth, filling the air with glad, 
ecstatic music, rising higher and higher, until the 
last faint note was lost in the distance. 

The vox humana was stilled ; but in the glorious 
hymn of thanksgiving that now arose one could 
almost hear the throbbing of a human heart. What 
did it mean ? That man’s imploring cry should in 
time be met with a deep content? That gratitude 
would give us freedom? To Peter and Ben it 
seemed that the angels were singing. Their eyes 
grew dim, and their souls dizzy with a strange joy. 

[ 1 2 4 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


At last, as if borne upward by invisible hands, they 
were floating away on the music, all fatigue forgotten 
and with no wish but to hear forever those beautiful 
sounds, when suddenly Van Holp’s sleeve was pulled 
impatiently and a gruff voice beside him asked : 
'‘How long are you going to stay here, captain, 
blinking at the ceiling like a sick rabbit ? It ’s high 
time we started.” 

" Hush ! ” whispered Peter, only half aroused. 

“Come, man, let’s go,” said Carl, giving the 
sleeve a second pull. 

Peter turned reluctantly ; he would not detain the 
boys against their will. All but Ben were casting 
rather reproachful glances upon him. 

" Well, boys,” he whispered, “we will go. Softly, 
now.” 

" That ’s the greatest thing I ’ve seen or heard 
since I ’ve been in Holland ! ” cried Ben, enthusias- 
tically, as soon as they had reached the open air. 
" It ’s glorious ! ” 

Ludwig and Carl laughed slyly at the English 
boy’s wartaal , or gibberish ; Jacob yawned ; Peter 
gave Ben a look that made him instantly feel that 
he and Peter were not so very different, after all, 
though one hailed from Holland, and the other from 
England ; and Lambert, the interpreter, responded 
with a brisk : “You may well say so. I believe there 
are one or two organs nowadays that are said to be 
as fine, but for years and years this organ of St. 
Bavon was the grandest in the world.” 

[ I2 5 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

" Do you know how large it is ? ” asked Ben. " I 
noticed that the church itself was prodigiously high, 
and that the organ filled the end of the great aisle 
almost from floor to roof.” 

" That ’s true,” said Lambert ; " and how superb 
the pipes looked — just like grand columns of silver. 
They ’re only for show, you know ; the real pipes 
are behind 'them — some big enough for a man to 
crawl through, and some smaller than a baby’s 
whistle. Well, sir, for size, the church is higher than 
Westminster Abbey, to begin with ; and, as you say, 
the organ makes a tremendous show, even then. 
Father told me last night that it is one hundred and 
eight feet high, fifty feet broad, and has over five 
thousand pipes ; it has sixty-four stops , if you know 
what they are (/ don’t), and three keyboards.” 

" Good for you ! ” said Ben. " You have a fine 
memory. My head is a perfect colander for figures ; 
they slip through as fast as they ’re poured in. But 
other facts and historical events stay behind ; that ’s 
some consolation.” 

"There we differ,” returned Van Mounen. "I’m 
great on names and figures ; but history, take it alto- 
gether, seems to me to be the most hopeless kind of 
a jumble.” 

Meantime Carl and Ludwig were having a discus- 
sion concerning some square wooden monuments they 
had observed in the interior of the church. Ludwig 
declared that each bore the name of the person buried 
beneath ; and Carl insisted that they had no names, 

[ 126 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

but only the heraldic arms of the deceased painted 
on a black ground, with the date of the death in gilt 
letters. 

"I ought to know,” said Carl, " for I walked 
across to the east side to look for the cannon ball 
which mother told me was embedded there. It was 
fired into the church, in the year fifteen hundred 
and something, by those rascally Spaniards, while 
the services were going on. There it was in the wall, 
sure enough ; and while I was walking back I noticed 
the monuments. I tell you they haven’t the sign of 
a name upon them.” 

"Ask Peter,” said Ludwig, only half convinced. 

"Carl is right,” replied Peter, who, though convers- 
ing with Jacob, had overheard their dispute. " Well, 
Jacob, as I was saying, Handel, the great composer, 
chanced to visit Haarlem, and of course he at once 
hunted up this famous organ. He gained admittance 
and was playing upon it with all his might when the 
regular organist chanced to enter the building. The 
man stood awestruck. He was a good player himself, 
but he had never heard such music before. 'Who is 
there ? ’ he cried. 'If it is not an angel or the devil, 
it must be Handel ! ’ When he discovered that it was 
the great musician, he was still more mystified. ' But 
how is this ? ’ said he ; ' you have done impossible 
things. No ten fingers on earth can play the pas- 
sages you have given ; human hands could n’t control 
all the keys and stops.’ ' I know it,’ said Handel, 
coolly, 'and for that reason I was forced to strike 

[ I2 7 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

some notes with the end of my nose.’ Donder ! just 
think how the old organist must have stared!” 

" Hey ! What ? ” exclaimed Jacob, startled when 
Peter’s animated voice suddenly became silent. 

" Have n’t you heard me, you rascal?” was the 
indignant rejoinder. 

" Oh, yes! — no — the fact is — I heard you at 
first. I’m awake now; but I do believe I’ve been 
walking beside you half asleep,” stammered Jacob, 
with such a doleful, bewildered look on his face that 
Peter could not help laughing. 


[ 128 ] 



FRIENDS IN NEED 

M EANTIME the boys were listening to Peter’s 
account of an incident which had long ago 
occurred in a part of the city where stood 
an ancient castle, whose lord had tyrannized over the 
burghers of the town to such an extent that they sur- 
rounded his castle and laid siege to it. Just at the 
last extremity, when the haughty lord felt that he 
could hold out no longer, and was preparing to sell 
his life as dearly as possible, his lady appeared on 
the ramparts and offered to surrender everything, 
provided she was permitted to bring out and retain as 
much of her most precious household goods as she 
could carry upon her back. The promise was given ; 
and forth came the lady from the gateway, bearing 
her husband upon her shoulders. The burghers’ 
pledge preserved him from the fury of the troops, 
but left them free to wreak their vengeance upon 
the castle. 


[ I2 9 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Do you believe that story, Captain Peter?” asked 
Carl, in an incredulous tone. 

" Of course I do ; it is historical. Why should I 
doubt it ? ” 

" Simply because no woman could do it ; and if 
she could she wouldn’t. That is my opinion.” 

"And I believe there are many who would ; that is, 
to save anyone they really cared for,” said Ludwig. 

Jacob, who, in spite of his fat and sleepiness, was 
of a rather sentimental turn, had listened with deep 
interest. 

" That is right, little fellow,” he said, nodding 
his head approvingly. " I believe every word of it. 
I shall never marry a woman who would not be glad 
to do as much for me .” 

" Heaven help her ! ” cried Carl, turning to gaze at 
the speaker. " Why, Poot, three men could n’t do it! ” 

" Perhaps not,” said Jacob, quietly, feeling that he 
had asked rather too much of the future Mrs. Poot. 
" But she must be willing ; that is all.” 

"Ay!” responded Peter’s cheery voice. "Willing 
heart makes nimble foot ; and who knows but it may 
make strong arms also.” 

At that same hour, while Ben was skating with his 
companions beside the Holland dike, Robby and 
Jenny stood in their pretty English schoolhouse, 
ready to join in the duties of their reading-class. 

" Commence, Master Robert Dobbs,” said the 
teacher. " Page 242 ; now, sir, mind every stop.” 

[ !3o] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


And Robby, in a quick, childish voice, roared 
forth at schoolroom pitch : 

"LESSON 62. THE HERO OF HAARLEM 

" Many years ago, there lived in Haarlem, one of the 
principal cities of Holland, a sunny-haired boy of gentle 
disposition. His father was a slincer ; that is, a man whose 
business it was to open and close the sluices, or large oaken 
gates that are placed at regular distances across the en- 
trance of the canals to regulate the amount of water that 
shall flow into them. 

" The sluicer raises the gates more or less, according to 
the quantity of water required, and closes them carefully at 
night, in order to avoid all possible danger of an oversupply 
running into the canal, or the water would soon overflow 
it and inundate the surrounding country. As a great por- 
tion of Holland is lower than the level of the sea, the 
waters are kept from flooding the land only by means of 
strong dikes, or barriers, and by means of these sluices, 
which are often strained to the utmost by the pressure of 
the rising tides. Even the little children in Holland know 
that constant watchfulness is required to keep the rivers 
and ocean from overwhelming the country, . and that a 
moment’s neglect of the sluicer’s duty may bring ruin 
and death to all.” 

‘'Very good,” said the teacher. "Now, Susan.” 

" One lovely autumn afternoon, when the boy was about 
eight years old, he obtained his parents’ consent to carry 
some cakes to a blind man who lived out in the country, 
on the other side of the dike. The little fellow started on 
his errand with a light heart, and having spent an hour 
with his grateful old friend, he bade him farewell and started 
on his homeward walk. 


[ ] 


HANS BRINKER 


"Trudging stoutly along by the canal, he noticed how 
the autumn rains had swollen the waters. Even while 
humming his careless, childish song, he thought of . his 
father’s brave old gates and felt glad of their strength ; for, 
thought he, ' if they gave way, where would father and 
mother be ? These pretty fields would be all covered with 
the angry waters. Father always calls them the angry 
waters ; I suppose he thinks they are mad at him for keep- 
ing them out so long.’ And with these thoughts just flitting 
across his brain, the little fellow stooped to pick the pretty 
blue flowers that grew, along his way. Sometimes he 
stopped to throw some feathery seed-ball in the air and 
watch it as it floated away ; sometimes he listened to the 
stealthy rustling of a rabbit speeding through the grass ; 
but oftener he smiled as he recalled the happy light he had 
seen arise on the weary, listening face of his blind old friend.” 

" Now, Henry," said the teacher, nodding to the 
next little reader. 

" Suddenly the boy looked around him in dismay. He 
had not noticed that the sun was setting ; now he saw that 
his long shadow on the grass had vanished. It was growing 
dark. He was still some distance from home, and in a 
lonely ravine, where even the blue flowers had turned to 
gray. He quickened his footsteps and, with a beating heart, 
recalled many a nursery tale of children belated in dreary 
forests. Just as he was bracing himself for a run, he was 
startled by the sound of trickling water. Whence did it 
come? He looked up and saw a small hole in the dike, 
through which a tiny stream was flowing. Any child in Hol- 
land will shudder at the thought of a leak in the dike. The 
boy understood the danger at a glance. That little hole, if 
the water were allowed to trickle through, would soon be 
a large one, and a terrible inundation would be the result. 

[ I 3 2 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


" Quick as a flash he saw his duty. Throwing away his 
flowers, the boy clambered up the heights until he reached* 
the hole. His chubby little finger was thrust in almost 
before he knew it. The flowing was stopped 1 ' Ah ! ’ he 
thought, with a chuckle of boyish delight, ' the angry waters 
must stay back now ! Haarlem shall not be drowned while 
I am here ! ’ 

" This was all very well at first ; but the night was fall- 
ing rapidly. Chill vapors filled the air. Our little hero 
began to tremble with cold and dread. He shouted loudly; 
he screamed, * Come here, come here ! ’ but no one came. 
The cold grew more intense. A numbness, commencing in 
the tired little finger, crept over his hand and arm, and 
soon his whole body was filled with pain. He shouted 
again: 'Will no one come? Mother, mother!’ Alas! his 
mother, good, practical soul, had already locked the doors, 
and had fully resolved to scold him on the morrow for 
spending the night with blind Jansen without her permis- 
sion. He tried to whistle. Perhaps some straggling boy 
might heed the signal ; but his teeth chattered so, it was 
impossible. Then he called on God. for help ; and the 
answer came through a holy resolution — ' I will stay here 
till morning.’ ” 

"Now, Jenny Dobbs,” said the teacher. Jenny’s 
eyes were glistening, but she took a long breath and 
commenced. 

" The midnight moon looked down upon that small soli- 
tary form, sitting upon a stone, halfway up the dike. His 
head was bent, but he was not asleep ; for every now and 
then one restless hand rubbed feebly the outstretched arm 
that seemed fastened to the dike, and often the pale, tearful 
face turned quickly at some real or fancied sound. 

[ 133] 


HANS BRINKER 


" How can we know the sufferings of that long and 
tearful watch ? — what falterings of purpose, what childish 
terrors, came over the boy as he thought of the warm little 
bed at home, of his parents, his brothers and sisters, then 
looked into the cold, dreary night ! If he drew away that 
tiny finger the angry waters, grown angrier still, would rush 
forth, and never stop until they had swept over the town. 
No; he would hold it there till daylight — if he lived. 
He was not very sure of living. What did this strange buzz- 
ing mean ? and then the knives, that seemed pricking and 
piercing him from head to foot ? He was not certain now 
that he could draw his finger away, even if he wished to. 

" At daybreak a clergyman, returning from the bedside 
of a sick parishioner, thought he heard groans as he walked 
along on the top of the dike. Bending, he saw, far down 
on the side, a child, apparently writhing with pain. 

" * In the name of wonder, boy,’ he exclaimed, ' what 
are you doing there ? ’ 

" ' I am keeping the water from running out/ was the 
simple answer of the little hero. * Tell them to come quick.’ 

"It is needless to add that they did come quickly, and 
that — ” 

''Jenny Dobbs,” said the teacher, rather impa- 
tiently, " if you cannot control your feelings so as to 
read distinctly, we will wait until you recover yourself.” 

"Yes, sir,” said Jenny, quite startled. 

It was strange ; but at that very moment Ben, far 
over the sea, was saying to Lambert : " The noble 
little fellow ! I have frequently met with an account 
of the incident, but I never knew till now that it 
was really true.” 


[ I 34] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

"True! Of course it is,” said Lambert, kindling. 
" I have given you the story just as mother told 
it to me, years ago. Why, there is not a child in 
Holland who does not know it. And, Ben, you may 
not think so ; but that little boy represents the spirit 
of the whole country. Not a leak can show itself 
anywhere, either in its politics, honor, or public 
safety, that a million fingers are not ready to stop 
it, at any cost.” 

" Whew ! ” cried Master Ben ; "big talking that ! ” 

"It’s true talk, anyway,” rejoined Lambert, so very 
quietly that Ben wisely resolved to make no further 
comment. 


t *35 ] 



XVIII 


ON THE CANAL 


^HE skating season had commenced unusually 
early ; our boys were by no means alone upon 
the ice. The afternoon was so fine that men, 
women, and children, bent upon enjoying the holiday, 
had flocked to the grand canal from far and near. 
St. Nicholas had evidently remembered the favorite 
pastime ; shining new skates were everywhere to be 
seen. Whole families were skimming their way to 
Haarlem, or Leyden, or the neighboring villages. 
The ice seemed fairly alive. Ben noticed the erect, 
easy carriage of the women and their picturesque 
variety of costume. There were the latest fashions, 
fresh from Paris, floating past dingy, moth-eaten 
garments that had seen service through two genera- 
tions ; coal-scuttle bonnets perched over freckled faces 
bright with holiday smiles; stiff muslin caps, with 
wings at the sides, flapping beside cheeks rosy with 
health and contentment; furs, too, encircling the 

[ 136] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


whitest of throats ; and scanty garments fluttering 
below faces ruddy with exercise ; in short, every 
quaint and comical mixture of dry-goods and flesh 
that Holland could furnish seemed sent to enliven 
the scene. 

There were belles from Leyden, and fishwives 
from the border villages ; cheese-women from Gouda, 
and prim matrons from beautiful countryseats on the 
Haarlemmer Meer. Gray-headed skaters were con- 
stantly to be seen ; wrinkled old women, with baskets 
upon their heads ; and plump little toddlers on skates, 
clutching at their mothers’ gowns. Some women 
carried their babies upon their backs, firmly secured 
with a bright shawl. The effect was pretty and grace- 
ful as they darted by, or sailed slowly past, now nodding 
to an acquaintance, now chirruping and throwing soft 
baby talk to the muffled little ones they carried. 

Boys and girls were chasing each other and hiding 
behind the one-horse sleds, that, loaded high with 
peat or timber, pursued their cautious way along the 
track marked out as " safe.” Beautiful, queenly 
women were there, enjoyment sparkling in their 
quiet eyes. Sometimes a long file of young men, 
each grasping the coat of the one before him, flew by 
with electric speed ; and sometimes the ice squeaked 
under the chair of some gorgeous old dowager or 
rich burgomaster’s lady, who, very red in the nose 
and sharp in the eyes, looked like a scare-thaw in- 
vented by old Father Winter for the protection of 
his skating-grounds. The chair would be heavy with 

[■ 37 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

foot stoves and cushions, to say nothing of the old 
lady. Mounted upon shining runners, it slid along, 
pushed by the sleepiest of servants, who, looking 
neither to the right nor the left, bent himself to his 
task, while she cast direful glances upon the scream- 
ing little rowdies who invariably acted as bodyguard. 

As for the men, they were pictures of placid 
enjoyment. Some were attired in ordinary citizen’s 
dress, but many looked odd enough with their short 
woolen coats, wide breeches, and big silver buckles. 
These seemed to Ben like little boys who had by 
a miracle sprung suddenly into manhood and were 
forced to wear garments that their astonished mothers 
had altered in a hurry. He noticed too that nearly 
all the men had pipes, as they passed him, whizzing 
and smoking like so many locomotives. There was 
every variety of pipes, from those of common clay to 
the most expensive meerschaums mounted in silver 
and gold. Some were carved into extraordinary and 
fantastic shapes, representing birds, flowers, heads, 
bugs, and dozens of other things ; some resembled 
the " Dutchman’s pipe ” that grows in our American 
woods ; some were red, and many were of a pure, 
snowy white ; but the most respectable were those 
which were ripening into a shaded brown. The 
deeper and richer the brown, of course, the more hon- 
ored the pipe ; for it was a proof that the owner, if 
honestly shading it, was deliberately devoting his 
manhood to the effort. What pipe would not be 
proud to be the object of such a sacrifice ? 

[138] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

For a while Ben skated on in silence. There was 
so much to engage his attention that he almost for- 
got his companions. Part of the time he had been 
watching the ice-boats as they flew over the great 
Haarlemmer Meer (or lake), the frozen surface of 
which was now plainly visible from the canal. These 
boats had very large sails — much larger, in propor- 
tion, than those of ordinary vessels — and were set 
upon a triangular frame furnished with an iron "run- 
ner ” at each corner, the widest part of the triangle 
crossing the bow, and its point stretching beyond the 
stern. They had rudders for guiding and brakes for 
arresting their progress, and were of all sizes and 
kinds — from small, rough affairs, managed by a boy, 
to large and beautiful ones filled with gay pleasure 
parties and manned by competent sailors, who, smok- 
ing their stumpy pipes, reefed and tacked and steered 
with great solemnity and precision. 

Some of the boats were painted and gilded in 
gaudy style and flaunted gay pennons from their 
mastheads ; others, white as snow, with every spot- 
less sail rounded by the wind, looked like swans 
borne onward by a resistless current. It seemed to 
Ben, as, following his fancy, he watched one of these 
in the distance, that he could almost hear its help- 
less, terrified cry ; but he soon found that the sound 
arose from a nearer and less romantic cause — from 
an ice-boat, not fifty yards from him, using its brakes 
to avoid a collision with a peat-sled. 

It was a rare thing for these boats to be upon the 

[ *39 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


canal, and their appearance generally caused no little 
excitement among the skaters, especially among the 
timid ; but to-day every ice-boat in the country 
seemed afloat or, rather, aslide, and the canal had 
its full share. 

Ben, though delighted at the sight, was often 
startled at the swift approach of the resistless, high- 
winged things threatening to dart in any and every 
possible direction. It required all his energies to 
keep out of the way of the passers-by and to pre- 
vent those screaming little urchins from upsetting 
him with their sleds. Once he halted to watch some 
boys who were making a hole in the ice, preparatory 
to using their fishing-spears. Just as he concluded 
to start again, he found himself suddenly bumped 
into an old lady’s lap. Her push chair had come 
upon him from the rear. The old lady screamed ; the 
servant, who was propelling her, gave a warning hiss. 
In another instant Ben found himself apologizing to 
empty air; the indignant old lady was far ahead. 

This was a slight mishap compared with one that 
now threatened him. A huge ice-boat under full sail 
came tearing down the canal, almost paralyzing Ben 
with the thought of instant destruction. It was close 
upon him. He saw its gilded prow, heard the schipper 
shout, felt the great boom fairly whiz over his head, 
was blind, deaf, and dumb, all in an instant, then 
opened his eyes, to find himself spinning some yards 
behind its great skatelike rudder. It had passed 
within an inch of his shoulder, but he was safe ; 

[ 140] 




OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


safe to see England again ; safe to kiss the dear faces 
that for an instant had flashed before him one by 
one — father, mother, Robby, and Jenny; that great 
boom had dashed their images into his very soul. 
He knew now how much he loved them. Perhaps 
this knowledge made him face complacently the 
scowls of those on the canal who seemed to feel 
that a boy in danger was necessarily a bad boy, 
needing instant reprimand. 

Lambert chided him roundly. 

" I thought it was all over with you, you careless 
fellow ! Why don’t you look where you are going ? 
Not content with sitting on all the old ladies’ laps, 
you must make a Juggernaut of every ice-boat that 
comes along. We shall have to hand you over to 
the aanspreekers yet, if you don’t look out ! ” 

"Please don’t,” said Ben, with mocking humility; 
then, seeing how pale Lambert’s lips were, added in 
a low tone, "I do believe I thought more in that one 
moment, Van Mounen, than in all the rest of my 
past life.” 

There was no reply, and for a while the two boys 
skated on in silence. 

Soon a faint sound of distant bells reached their 
ears. 

" Hark ! ” said Ben. " What is that ? ” 

" The carillons ,” replied Lambert. " They are try- 
ing the bells in the chapel of yonder village. Ah, 
Ben ! you should hear the chimes of the 'New 
Church ’ at Delft. They are superb — nearly five 
[ r 4i] 


HANS BRINKER 


hundred sweet-toned bells, and one of the best canl- 
loneurs of Holland to play upon them. Hard work, 
though ; they say the fellow often has to go to bed 
from positive exhaustion, after his performances. 
You see the bells are attached to a kind of keyboard 
something like they have on pianofortes ; there is 
also a set of pedals for the feet. When a brisk tune 
is going on, the player looks like a kicking frog 
fastened to his seat with a skewer.” 

"For shame ! ” said Ben, indignantly. 

Peter had, for the present, exhausted his stock of 
Haarlem anecdotes ; and now, having nothing to do 
but to skate, he and his three companions were 
hastening to " catch up ” with Lambert and Ben. 

"That English lad is fleet enough,” said Peter. 
"If he were a born Hollander he could do no 
better. Generally these John Bulls make but a sorry 
•figure on skates. Halloo ! here you are, Van Mou- 
nen ; why, we hardly hoped for the honor of meet- 
ing you again. Who were you flying from in such 
haste ? ” 

" Snails,” retorted Lambert. " What kept you ? ” 

"We have been talking ; and, besides, we halted 
once to give Poot a chance to rest.” 

"He begins to look rather worn out,” said Lam- 
bert, in a low voice. 

Just then a beautiful ice-boat, with reefed sail and 
flying streamers, swept leisurely by. Its deck was 
filled with children muffled up to their chins. Look- 
ing at them from the ice, you could see only smiling 
[» 42] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


little faces embedded in bright-colored woolen wrap- 
pings. They were singing a chorus in honor of St. 
Nicholas. The music starting' in the discord of a 
hundred childish voices, floated, as it rose, into 
exquisite harmony : 

" Friend of sailors and of children, 

Double claim have we, 

As in youthful joy we ’re sailing 
O’er a frozen sea. 

Nicholas, St. Nicholas, 

Let us sing to thee ! 

" While through wintry air we ’re rushing, 

As our voices blend, 

Are you near us ? Do you hear us, 

Nicholas, our friend ? 

Nicholas, St. Nicholas, 

Love can never end ! 

" Sunny sparkles, bright before us, 

Chase away the cold ; 

Hearts where sunny thoughts are welcome 
Never can grow old. 

Nicholas, St. Nicholas, 

Never can grow old ! 

' Pretty gift and loving lesson, 

Festival and glee, 

Bid us thank thee as we ’re sailing 
O’er the frozen sea. 

Nicholas, St. Nicholas, 

So we sing to thee ! ” 


[ 1 43 ] 



JACOB POOT CHANGES THE PLAN 


'^HE last note died away in the distance. Our 
boys, who, in their vain efforts to keep up 
with the boat, had felt that they were skating 
backward, turned to look at one another. 

" How beautiful that was ! ” exclaimed Van 
Mounen. 

"Just like a dream ! ” said Ludwig. 

Jacob drew close to Ben, giving his usual approv- 
ing nod as he spoke : " Dat ish goot. Dat ish te 
pest vay. / shay petter to take to Leyden mit a 
poat ! ” 

"Take a boat!” exclaimed Ben, in dismay. 
" Why, man, our plan was to skate , not to be carried 
like little children.” 

" Tuyfels ! ” retorted Jacob. " Dat ish no little — 
no papies — to go for poat ! ” 

The boys laughed, but exchanged uneasy glances. 
It would be great fun to jump on an ice-boat, if they 

[ J 44 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

had a chance ; but to abandon so shamefully their grand 
undertaking — who could think of such a thing? ” 

An animated discussion arose at once. 

Captain Peter brought his party to a halt. 

" Boys,” said he, " it strikes me that we should 
consult Jacob’s wishes in this matter. He started 
the excursion, you know.” 

” Pooh ! ” sneered Carl, throwing a contemptuous 
glance at Jacob. " Who ’s tired ? We can rest all 
night at Leyden.” 

Ludwig and Lambert looked anxious and disap- 
pointed. It was no slight thing to lose the credit of 
having skated all the way from Broek to The Hague 
and back again, but both agreed that Jacob should 
decide the question. 

Good-natured, tired Jacob ! He read the popular 
sentiment at a glance. 

" Oh, no!” he said in Dutch. "I was joking. 
We will skate, of course.” 

The boys gave a delighted shout and started on 
again with renewed vigor. 

All but Jacob. He tried his best not to seem 
fatigued and, by not saying a word, saved his 
breath and energy for the great business of skating. 
But in vain. Before long the stout body grew 
heavier and heavier ; the tottering limbs, weaker and 
weaker. Worse than all, the blood, anxious to get as 
far as possible from the ice, mounted to the puffy, 
good-natured cheeks and made the roots of his thin, 
yellow hair glow into a fiery red. 

[ms] 


HANS BRINKER 


This kind of work is apt to summon Vertigo, of 
whom good Hans Andersen writes ; the same who 
hurls daring young hunters from the mountains, or 
spins them from the sharpest heights of the glaciers, 
or catches them as they tread the stepping-stones of 
the mountain torrent. 

Vertigo came, unseen, to Jacob. After torment- 
ing him awhile, with one touch sending a chill from 
head to foot, with the next scorching every vein 
with fever, she made the canal rock and tremble 
beneath him, the white sails bow and spin as they 
passed, then cast him heavily upon the ice. 

" Halloo ! ” cried Van Mounen. " There goes 
Poot ! ” 

Ben sprang hastily forward. 

"Jacob, Jacob, are you hurt ? ” 

Peter and Carl were lifting him. The face was 
white enough now. It seemed like a dead face; 
even the good-natured look was gone. 

A crowd collected. Peter unbuttoned the poor 
boy’s jacket, loosened his red tippet, and blew 
between the parted lips. 

" Stand off, good people ! ” he cried. " Give him 
air ! ” 

" Lay him down,” called out a woman from the 
crowd. 

" Stand him upon his feet,” shouted another. 

" Give him wine,” growled a stout fellow who was 
driving a loaded sled. 

"Yes, yes, give him wine!” echoed everybody. 

[ J 4 6 ] 









HANS BRINKER 

Ludwig and Lambert shouted in concert : " Wine, 
wine ! Who has wine ? ” 

A sleepy-eyed Dutchman began to fumble mysteri- 
ously under the heaviest of blue jackets, saying, as he 
did so : " Not so much noise, young masters ; not so 
much noise ! The boy was a fool to faint off like a girl.” 

" Wine, quick ! ” cried Peter, who, with Ben’s 
help, was rubbing Jacob from head to foot. 

Ludwig stretched forth his hand imploringly toward 
the Dutchman, who, with an air of great importance, 
was still fumbling beneath the jacket. 

" Do hurry ! He will die ! Has anyone else 
any wine ? ” 

" He is dead ! ” said an awful voice from among 
the bystanders. 

This startled the Dutchman. 

" Have a care ! ” he said, reluctantly drawing forth 
a small blue flask. " This is schnapps. A little is 
enough.” 

A little was enough. The paleness gave way to 
a faint flush. Jacob opened his eyes and, half be- 
wildered, half ashamed, feebly tried to free himself 
from those who were supporting him. 

There was no alternative now for our party but to 
have their exhausted comrade carried in some way to 
Leyden. As for expecting him to skate any more that 
day, the thing was impossible. In truth, by this time 
each boy began to entertain secret yearnings toward 
ice-boats and to avow a Spartan resolve not to desert 
[ *48] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

Jacob. Fortunately a gentle, steady breeze was setting 
southward. If some accommodating schipper would but 
come along, matters would not be quite so bad, after all. 

Peter hailed the first sail that appeared. The 
men in the stern would not even look at him. 
Three drays on runners came along, but they were 
already loaded to the utmost. Then an ice-boat, a 
beautiful, tempting little one, whizzed past like an 
arrow. The boys had just time to stare eagerly at 
it, when it was gone. In despair, they resolved to 
prop up Jacob with their strong arms as well as they 
could and take him to the nearest village. 

At that moment a very shabby ice-boat came in 
sight. With but little hope of success, Peter hailed it, 
at the same time taking off his hat and flourishing 
it in the air. 

The sail was lowered ; then came the scraping 
sound of the brake ; and a pleasant voice called 
out from the deck, "What now?” 

"Will you take us on ? ” cried Peter, hurrying 
with his companions as fast as he could, for the 
boat was " bringing to ” some distance ahead ; " will 
you take us on ? ” 

" We ’ll pay for the ride ! ” shouted Carl. 

The man on board scarcely noticed him, except 
to mutter something about it ’s not being a trekshiyt. 
Still looking toward Peter, he asked, "How many ? ” 

" Six.” 

" Well, it ’s Nicholas Day — up with you ! Young 
gentleman sick (nodding toward Jacob)? ” 

[ r 49 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

"Yes, broken down — skated all the way from 
Broek,” answered Peter. " Do you go to Leyden ? ” 

"That’s as the wind says. It’s blowing that way 
now. Scramble up ! ” 

Poor Jacob ! if that willing Mrs. Poot had only 
appeared just then, her services would have been 
invaluable. It was as much as the boys could do 
to hoist him into the boat. All were in at last. 
The schipper ; puffing away at his pipe, let out the 
sail, lifted the brake, and sat in the stern with 
folded arms. 

" Whew ! how fast we go ! ” cried Ben. " This is 
something like. Feel better, Jacob ? ” 

" Much petter, I tanks you.’’ 

" Oh ! you ’ll be as good as new in ten minutes. 
This makes a fellow feel like a bird.” 

Jacob nodded and blinked his eyes. 

"Don’t go to sleep, Jacob; it’s too cold. You 
might never wake up, you know. Persons often 
freeze to death in that way.” 

" I no sleep,” said Jacob, confidently. And in 
two minutes he was snoring. 

Carl and Ludwig laughed. 

" We must wake him ! ” cried Ben. " It is dan- 
gerous, I tell you. Jacob! Ja-a-c — ” 

Captain Peter interfered ; for three of the boys 
were helping Ben for the fun of the thing. 

" Nonsense ! Don’t shake him ! Let him alone, 
boys ! One never snores like that when one ’s freez- 
ing. Cover him up with something. Here, this 
[ !S°] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


cloak will do. Hey, s chipper} ” and he looked toward 
the stern for permission to use it. 

The man nodded. 

"There,” said Peter, tenderly adjusting the gar- 
ment; " let him sleep. He will be frisky as a lamb 
when he wakes. How far are we from Leyden, 
s chipper} ” 

"Not more ’n a couple of pipes,” replied a voice, 
rising from smoke, like the genii in fairy tales (puff, 
puff); "likely, not more ’n one an’ a half” (puff, 
puff) " if this wind holds ” (puff, puff, puff). 

" What is the man saying, Lambert ? ” asked 
Ben, who was holding his mittened hands against 
his cheeks to ward off the cutting air. 

"He says we ’re about two pipes from Leyden. 
Half the boors here on the canal measure distances 
by the time it takes them to finish a pipe.” 

"How ridiculous ! ” 

" See here, Benjamin Dobbs,” retorted Lambert, 
growing unaccountably indignant at Ben’s quiet 
smile ; " see here. You ’ve a way of calling every 
other thing you see on this side of the German 
Ocean ' ridiculous.’ It may suit you, this word ; 
but it don’t suit me. When you want anything 
ridiculous, just remember your English custom of 
making the Lord Mayor of London, at his installa- 
tion, count the nails in a horseshoe to prove his 
learning .” 

" Who told you we had any such custom as that ? ” 
cried Ben, looking grave in an instant. 

[15*3 


HANS BRINICER 

" Why, I know it ; no use anyone telling me. It’s 
in all the books, and it’s true. It strikes me,” con- 
tinued Lambert, laughing in spite of himself, " that 
you have been kept in happy ignorance of a good 
many ridiculous things on your side of the map.” 

" Humph ! ” exclaimed Ben, trying not to smile. 
" I ’ll inquire into that lord-mayor business when I 
get home. There must be some mistake. B-r-r-roooo ! 
How fast we’re going ! This is glorious !” 

It was a grand sail, or ride, I scarce know which 
to call it. Perhaps "fly” would be the best word ; for 
the boys felt very much as Sindbad did when, tied to 
the roc’s leg, he darted through the clouds ; or as 
Bellerophon felt when he shot through the air on the 
back of his winged horse Pegasus. Sailing, riding, or 
flying, whichever it was, everything was rushing past 
backward ; and before they had time to draw a long 
breath, Leyden itself, with its high-peaked roofs, flew 
halfway to meet them. 

When the city came in sight it was high time to 
waken the sleeper. That feat accomplished, Peter’s 
prophecy came to pass. Master Jacob was quite 
restored and in excellent spirits. 

The schipper made a feeble remonstrance when 
Peter, with hearty thanks, endeavored to slip some 
silver pieces into his tough brown palm. 

"Ye see, young master,” said he, drawing away 
his hand, "the regular line o’ trade’s one thing, and 
a favor ’s another.” 

"I know it,” said Peter; "but those boys and 
[' 52 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

girls of yours will want sweets when you get home. 
Buy them some in the name of St. Nicholas.” 

The man grinned. "Ay, true enough ! I’ve young 
’uns in plenty — a clean boatload of them. You are 
a sharp young master at guessing.” 

This time the knotty hand hitched forward again, 
quite carelessly, it seemed, but its palm was upward. 
Peter hastily dropped in the money and moved away. 

The sail soon came tumbling down. Scrape, scrape, 
went the brake, scattering an ice shower round the 
boat. 

"Good-by, schipper \ ” shouted the boys, seizing 
their skates and leaping from the deck, one by one. 
" Many thanks to you ! ” 

" Good-by ! good-b — Hold ! here ! stop ! I want 
my coat.” 

Ben was carefully assisting his cousin over the 
side of the boat. 

" What is the man shouting about ? Oh, I know ! 
You have his wrapper round your shoulders.” 

" Dat ish true,” answered Jacob, half jumping, half 
tumbling, down upon the framework; "dat ish vot 
make him sho heavy.” 

"Made you so heavy, you mean, Poot ? ” 

"Ya, made you sho heavy; dat ish true,” said 
Jacob, innocently, as he worked himself free from 
the big wrapper. " Dere, now you hands it mit him 
straightsway, and tells him I voz much tanks for dat.” 

" Ho for an inn ! ” cried Peter, as they stepped 
into the city. " Be brisk, my fine fellows ! ” 

[ 1 53 ] 



MYNHEER KLEEF AND HIS BILL OF FARE 


^HE boys soon found an unpretending estab- 
lishment near the Breedstraat (Broad Street), 
with a funnily painted lion over the door. 
This was the Rood Leeuw, or Red Lion, kept by 
one Huygens Kleef, a stout Dutchman with short 
legs and a very long pipe. 

By this time they were in a ravenous condition. 
The tiffin taken at Haarlem had served only to give 
them an appetite, and this had been heightened by 
their exercise and swift sail upon tbe canal. 

“Come, mine host, give us what you can!” cried 
Peter, rather pompously. 

“ I can give you anything — everything,” answered 
Mynheer Kleef, performing a difficult bow. 

“Well, give us sausage and pudding.” 

“ Ah, Mynheer, the sausage is all gone. There is 
no pudding.” 

“ Salmagundi, then, and plenty of it.” 

[ *54 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


"That is out, also, young master.” 

" Eggs ; and be quick.” 

"Winter qggs are very poor eating,” answered 
the innkeeper, puckering his lips and lifting his 
eyebrows. 

"No eggs ? Well — caviar.” 

The Dutchman raised his fat hands. 

"Caviar ! That is made of gold ! Who has caviar 
to sell?” 

Peter had sometimes eaten it at home. He knew 
that it was made of the roes of the sturgeon and 
certain other large fish, but he had no idea of its 
cost. 

"Well, mine host, what have you?” 

" What have I ? Everything. I have rye bread, 
sauerkraut, potato salad, and the fattest herring in 
Leyden.” 

" What do you say, boys ? ” asked the captain. 
" Will that do ? ” 

"Yes,” cried the famished youths, "if he ’ll only 
be quick.” 

Mynheer move# off like one walking in his sleep, 
but soon opened his eyes wide at the miraculous 
manner in which his herring was made to disappear. 
Next came, or rather went, potato salad, rye bread, 
and coffee, then Utrecht water flavored with orange, 
and, finally, slices of dry gingerbread. This last 
delicacy was not on the regular bill of fare ; but 
Mynheer Kleef, driven to extremes, solemnly pro- 
duced it from his own private stores, and gave only 

[ 1 55 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


a placid blink when his voracious young travelers 
started up, declaring they had eaten enough. 

" I should think so ! ” he exclaimed internally, but 
his smooth face gave no sign. 

Softly rubbing his hands, he asked, " Will your 
worships have beds ? ” 

"Will your worships have beds ! ” mocked Carl. 
" What do you mean ? Do we look sleepy ? ” 

"Not at all, master. But I would cause them to 
be warmed and aired. None sleep under damp 
sheets at the Red Lion.” 

"Ah, I understand. Shall we come back here to 
sleep, captain ? ” 

Peter was accustomed to finer lodgings ; but this 
was a frolic. 

"Why not?” he replied. "We can fare excel- 
lently here.” 

"Your worship speaks only the truth,” said 
mynheer, with great deference. 

"How fine to be called ' Your ^worship’ ! ” laughed 
Ludwig aside to Lambert; while Peter replied, 
" Well, mine host, you may get the rooms ready 
by nine.” 

" I have one beautiful chamber, with three beds, 
that will hold all of your worships,” said Mynheer 
Kleef, coaxingly. 

" That will do.” 

"Whew!” whistled Carl, when they reached the 
street. 

Ludwig started. " What now ? ” 

[ * 56 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


"Nothing; only Mynheer Kleef of the Red Lion 
little thinks how we shall make things spin in that 
same room to-night. We ’ll set the bolsters flying ! ’’ 

" Order ! ’’ cried the captain. " Now, boys, I must 
seek this great Dr. Boekman before I sleep. If he 
is in Leyden it will be no great task to find him, 
for he always puts up at the Golden Eagle when he 
comes here. I wonder that you did not all go to bed 
at once. Still, as you are awake, what say you to 
walking with Ben up by the Museum or the 
Stadhuis ? ’’ 

"Agreed," said Ludwig and Lambert; but Jacob 
preferred to go with Peter. In vain Ben tried to 
persuade him to remain at the inn and rest. He 
declared that he never felt "petter," and wished, of 
all things, to take a look at the city, for it was his 
first " stop mit Leyden." 

" Oh, it will not harm him!" said Lambert. " How 
long the day has been, and what glorious sport we 
have had ! It hardly seems possible that we left 
Broek only this morning." 

Jacob yawned. 

"I have enjoyed it well," he said; "but it seems 
to me at least a week since we started." 

Carl laughed and muttered something about 
" twenty naps." 

"Here we. are at the corner. Remember, we all 
meet at the Red Lion at eight,” said the captain, as 
he and Jacob walked away. 


[i57] 



XXI 


THE RED LION BECOMES DANGEROUS 


^SHE boys were glad to find a blazing fire await- 
ing them upon their return to the Red Lion. 
Carl and his party were there first. Soon after- 
ward Peter and Jacob came in. They had inquired in 
vain concerning Dr. Boekman. All they could ascertain 
was that he had been seen in Haarlem that morning. 

"As for his being in Leyden," the landlord of 
the Golden Eagle had said to Peter, " the thing is 
impossible. He always lodges here when in town. 
By this time there would be a crowd at my door 
waiting to consult him. Bah ! people make such 
fools of themselves ! " 

"He is called a great surgeon," said Peter. 

"Yes, the greatest in Holland. But what of that? 
What of being the greatest pill choker and knife 
slasher in the world? The man is a bear. Only 
last month, on this very spot, he called me a pig 
before three customers!" 




HANS BRINKER 

" No ! ” exclaimed Peter, trying to look surprised 
and indignant. 

''Yes, master — a pig” repeated the landlord, 
puffing at his pipe with an injured air. " Bah ! if he 
did not pay fine prices and bring customers to my 
house, I would sooner see him in the Vleit Canal 
than give him lodgment.” 

Perhaps mine host felt that he was speaking too 
openly to a stranger, or it may be he saw a smile . 
lurking in Peter’s face, for he added sharply: "Come, 
now, what more do you wish ? Supper ? Beds ? ” 

"No, Mynheer. I am but searching for Dr. 
Boekman.” 

" Go find him. He is not in Leyden.” 

Peter was not - to be put off so easily. After 
receiving a few more rough words, he succeeded in 
obtaining permission to leave a note for the famous 
surgeon ; or, rather, he bought from his amiable 
landlord the privilege of writing it there, and a 
promise that it should be promptly delivered when 
Dr. Boekman arrived. This accomplished, Peter and 
Jacob returned to the Red Lion. 

This inn had once been a fine house, the home 
of a rich burgher ; but having grown old and shabby, 
it had passed through many hands until, finally, it 
had fallen into the possession of Mynheer Kleef. 
He was fond of saying, as he looked up at its dingy, 
broken walls, " Mend it and paint it, and there ’s not 
a prettier house in Leyden.” It stood six stories 
high from the street. The first three were of equal 
. [ 160] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


breadth, but of various heights ; the last three were 
in the great high roof and grew smaller and smaller, 
like a set of double steps, until the top one was lost 
in a point. The roof was built of short, shining tiles ; 
and the windows, with their little panes, seemed to 
be scattered irregularly over the face of the building, 
without the slightest attention to outward effect. But 
the public room on the ground floor was the land- 
lord’s joy and pride. He never said, " Mend it and 
paint it ” there, for everything was in the highest con- 
dition of Dutch neatness and order. If you will but 
open your mind’s eye you may look into the apartment. 

Imagine a large, bare room, with a floor that 
seemed to be made of squares cut out of glazed 
earthen pie-dishes — first a yellow piece, then a red, 
until the whole looked like a vast checkerboard. 
Fancy a dozen high-backed wooden chairs standing 
around ; then a great hollow chimney place, all aglow 
with its blazing fire, reflected a hundred times in the 
polished steel firedogs ; a tiled hearth, tiled sides, 
tiled top, with a Dutch sentence upon it ; and over 
all, high above one’s head, a narrow mantelshelf 
filled with shining brass candlesticks, pipe lighters, 
and tinder-boxes. Then see, in one end of the 
room, three pine tables ; in the other, a closet and a 
deal dresser. The latter is filled with mugs, dishes, 
pipes, tankards, earthen and glass 'bottles, and is 
guarded at one end by a brass-hooped keg standing 
upon long legs. Everything dim with tobacco smoke, 
but otherwise clean as soap and sand can make it. 

[ 161 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Next picture two sleepy, shabby-looking men in 
wooden shoes — one seated near the glowing fire- 
place, smoking a broken pipe, the other pacing the 
room restlessly ; Mynheer Kleef walking softly and 
heavily about, clad in leather knee-breeches, felt 
shoes, and a green jacket wider than it is long ; then 
throw a heap of skates in the corner, and put six 
tired, well-dressed boys, in various attitudes, upon the 
wooden chairs — and you will see the coffeeroom of 
the Red Lion just as it appeared at nine o’clock on 
the evening of December 6, 184 — . For supper, 
gingerbread again, slices of Dutch sausage, rye bread 
sprinkled with aniseed, pickles, a bottle of Utrecht 
water, and a pot of very mysterious coffee. The 
boys were ravenous enough to take all they could 
get and pronounce it excellent. Ben made wry faces, 
but Jacob declared he had never eaten a better meal. 
After they had laughed and talked a while and 
counted their money, by way of settling a discussion 
that arose concerning their expenses, the captain 
marched his company off to bed, led on by a greasy 
pioneer boy, who carried skates and a candlestick 
instead of an ax. 

One of the ill-favored men by the fire had shuffled 
toward the dresser and was ordering a mug of beer 
just as Ludwig, who brought up the rear, was 
stepping from the apartment. 

I don t like that fellow’s eye,” he whispered to 
Carl. " He looks like a pirate, or something of that 
kind.” 


[ i6 2 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" Looks like a granny!” answered Carl, in sleepy 
disdain. 

Ludwig laughed uneasily. 

" Granny, or no granny,” he whispered, " I tell 
you, he looks just like one of those men in the 
voetspoelen .” 

" Pooh !” sneered Carl. " I knew it. That picture 
was too much for you. Look sharp, now, and see if 
yon fellow with the candle doesn’t look like the 
other villain.” 

"No, indeed ! His face is as honest as a Gouda 
cheese. But I say, Carl, that really was a horrid 
picture.” 

" Humph ! what did you stare at it so long for ? ” 

" I could n’t help it.” 

By this time the boys had reached the " beautiful 
room with three beds in it.” A dumpy little maiden, 
with long earrings, met them at the doorway, dropped 
them a curtsy, and passed out. She carried a long- 
handled thing that resembled a frying-pan with a 
cover. 

"I am glad to see that,” said Van Mounen to Ben. 

" What ? ” 

" Why, the warming-pan. It ’s full of hot ashes. 
She ’s been heating our beds.” 

" Oh, a warming-pan, eh ! Much obliged to her, 
I’m sure,” said Ben, too sleepy to make any further 
comment. 

• Meantime Ludwig still talked of the picture that 
had made such a strong impression upon him. He 

[163] 


HANS BRINKER 

had seen it in a shop window during their walk. It 
was a poorly painted thing, representing two men 
tied back to back, standing on shipboard, surrounded 
by a group of seamen, who were preparing to cast 
them together into the sea. This mode of putting 
prisoners to death was called voetspoelen, or feet- 
washing, and was practiced by the Dutch upon the 
pirates of Dunkirk in 1605 and again by the Span- 
iards upon the Dutch, in the horrible massacre that 
followed the siege of Haarlem. Bad as the painting 
was, the expression upon the pirates’ faces was well 
given. Sullen and despairing as they seemed, they 
wore such a cruel, malignant aspect that Ludwig had 
felt a secret satisfaction in contemplating their help- 
less condition. He might have forgotten the scene 
by this time but for that ill-looking man by the fire. 
Now while he capered about, boylike, and threw 
himself with an antic into his bed, he inwardly hoped 
that the voetspoelen would not haunt his dreams. 

It was a cold, cheerless room. A fire had been 
newly kindled in the burnished stove and seemed to 
shiver even while it was trying to burn. The windows, 
with their funny little panes, were bare and shiny ; 
and the cold, waxed floor looked like a sheet of 
yellow ice. Three rush-bottomed chairs stood stiffly 
against the wall, alternating with three narrow wooden 
bedsteads that made the room look like the deserted 
ward of a hospital. At any other time the boys 
would have found it quite impossible to sleep in pairs; 
especially in such narrow quarters ; but to-night they 
[164] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

lost all fear of being crowded, and longed only to 
lay their weary bodies upon the feather beds that lay 
lightly upon each cot. Had the boys been in Ger- 
many instead of Holland they might have been 
covered also by a bed of down or feathers. This 
peculiar form of luxury was at that time adopted only 
by wealthy or eccentric Hollanders. 

Ludwig, as we have seen, had not quite lost his 
friskiness ; but the other boys, after one or two feeble 
attempts at pillow firing, composed themselves for the 
night with the greatest dignity. Nothing like fatigue 
for making boys behave themselves. 

"Good night, boys!” said Peter’s voice from under 
the covers. 

" Good night! ” called back everybody but Jacob, 
who already lay snoring beside the captain. 

”1 say!” shouted Carl, after a moment, ''don’t 
sneeze, anybody. Ludwig ’s in a fright.” 

''No such thing! ” retorted Ludwig, in a smothered 
voice. Then there was a little whispered dispute, 
which was ended by Carl saying, '' For my part I 
don’t know what fear is ; but you really are a timid 
fellow, Ludwig.” 

Ludwig grunted sleepily, but made no further reply. 

It was the middle of the night. The fire had 
shivered itself to death ; and, in place of its gleams, 
little squares of moonlight lay upon the floor, slowly, 
slowly shifting their way across the room. Something 
else was moving also, but they did not see it. Sleeping 

[ i 6 5 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

toys keep but a poor lookout. During the early hours 
of the night Jacob Poot had been gradually but surely 
winding himself with all the bed covers. He now lay 
like a monster chrysalis beside the half-frozen Peter, 
who, accordingly, was skating with all his might over 
the coldest, bleakest of dreamland icebergs. 

Something else, I say, besides the moonlight, was 
moving across the bare, polished floor — moving not 
quite so slowly, but quite as stealthily. 

Wake up, Ludwig ! The voetspoelen pirate is grow- 
ing real. 

No. Ludwig does not waken, but he moans in 
his sleep. 

Does not Carl hear it ? — Carl the brave, the 
fearless. 

No. Carl is dreaming of the race. 

And Jacob? Van Mounen ? Ben? 

Not they. They too are dreaming of the race ; 
and Katrinka is singing through their dreams, laugh- 
ing, flitting past them. Now and then a wave from 
the great organ surges through their midst. 

Still the thing moves, slowly, slowly. 

Peter ! Captain Peter, there is danger ! 

Peter heard no call. But in his dream he slid a 
few thousand feet from one iceberg to another, and 
the shock awoke him. 

Whew ! how cold he was ! He gave a hopeless, 
desperate tug at the chrysalis. In vain ! sheet, blanket, 
and spread were firmly wound about Jacob’s inanimate 
form. Peter looked drowsily toward the window. 

[ 166 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" Clear moonlight,” he thought; "we shall have 
pleasant weather to-morrow. Halloo ! what ’s that ? ” 

He saw the moving thing, or, rather,' something 
black crouching upon the floor ; for it had halted as 
Peter stirred. 

He watched in silence. 

Soon it moved again, nearer and nearer. It was 
a man crawling upon hands and feet. 

The captain’s first impulse was to call out; but he 
took an instant to consider matters. 

The creeper had a shining knife in one hand. 
This was ugly ; but Peter was naturally self-possessed. 
When the head turned, Peter’s eyes were closed, as if 
in sleep ; but at other times nothing could be keener, 
sharper, than the captain’s gaze. 

Closer, closer, crept the robber. His back was 
very near Peter now. The knife was laid spftly upon 
the floor. One careful arm reached forth stealthily to 
drag the clothes from the chair by the captain’s bed. 
The robbery was commenced. 

Now was Peter’s time. Holding his breath, he 
sprang up and leaped with all his strength upon the 
robber’s back, stunning the rascal with the force of 
the blow. To seize the knife was but a second’s 
work. The robber began to struggle, but Peter sat 
like a giant astride the prostrate form. 

" If you stir,” said the brave boy, in as terrible a 
voice as he could command, "stir but one inch, I 
will plunge this knife into your neck. Boys, boys! 
Wake up!” he shouted, still pressing down the black 

[ i6 7 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


head and holding the knife at pricking distance. 
"Give us a hand! I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” 

The chrysalis rolled over, but made no other sign. 

"Up, boys!” cried Peter, never budging. "Ludwig, 
Lambert ! Thunder ! are you all dead ? ” 

Dead! not they! Van Mounen and Ben were on 
their feet in an instant. 

"Hey? What now?” they shouted. 

" I ’ve got a robber here,” said Peter, coolly. "Lie 
still, you scoundrel, or I ’ll slice your head off ! Now, 
boys, cut out your bed cord. Plenty of time ; he ’s 
a dead man if he stirs.” 

Peter felt that he weighed a thousand pounds. 
So he did, with that knife in his hand. The man 
growled and swore, but dared not move. 

Ludwig was up by this time. He had a great 
jackknife, the pride of his heart, in his breeches’ 
pocket. It could do good service now. They bared 
the bedstead in a moment. It was laced backward 
and forward with a rope. 

"I’ll cut it,” cried Ludwig, sawing away at the 
knot. "Hold him tight, Pete ! ” 

" Never fear ! ” answered the captain, giving the 
robber a warning prick. 

The boys were soon pulling at the rope like good 
fellows. It was out at last — a long, stout piece. 

"Now, boys,” commanded the captain, "lift up 
his rascally arms ! Cross his hands over his back ! 
That ’s right — excuse me for being in the way — 
tie them tight ! ” 


[ 1 68 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" Yes, and his feet too, the villain ! ” cried the 
boys, in great excitement, tying knot after knot 
with Herculean jerks. 

The prisoner changed his tone. 

"Oh — oh ! ” he moaned, " spare a poor sick man. 
I was but walking in my sleep.” 

" Ugh ! ” grunted Lambert, still tugging away at 
the rope. "Asleep, were you? Well, we’ll wake 
you up.” 

The man muttered fierce oaths between his teeth, 
then cried in a piteous voice : " Unbind me, good 
young masters ! I have five little children at home. 
By St. Bavon I swear to give you each a ten-guilder 
piece if you will but free me ! ” 

"Ha, ha ! ” laughed Peter. 

" Ha, ha ! ” laughed the other boys. 

Then came threats — threats that made Ludwig 
fairly shudder, though he continued to bind and tie 
with redoubled energy. 

" Hold up, Mynheer Housebreaker ! ” said Van 
Mounen, in a* warning voice. " That knife is very 
near your throat. If you make the captain nervous, 
there is no telling what may happen.” 

The robber took the hint and fell into a sullen 
silence. 

Just at this moment the chrysalis upon the bed 
stirred and sat erect. 

" What ’s the matter ? ” he asked, without open- 
ing his eyes. 

" Matter ! ” echoed Ludwig, half trembling, half 

[ i 6 9 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

laughing. " Get up, Jacob ! Here ’s work for you. 
Come sit on this fellow’s back while we get into 
our clothes ; we ’re half perished.” 

" What fellow ? Donder ! ” 

" Hurrah for Poot ! ” cried all the boys, as Jacob, 
sliding quickly to the floor, bedclothes and all, took 
in the state of affairs at a glance and sat heavily 
beside Peter on the robber’s back. 

Oh, did n’t the fellow groan, then ! 

"No use in holding him down any longer, boys,” 
said Peter, rising, but bending, as he did so, to 
draw a pistol from his man’s belt. "You see I ’ve 
been keeping guard over this pretty little weapon for 
the last ten minutes. It ’s cocked, and the least 
wriggle might have set it off. No danger now. 
I must dress myself. You and I, Lambert, will go 
for the police. I’d no idea it was so cold.” 

" Where is Carl ? ” asked one of the boys. 

They looked at one another. Carl certainly was 
not among them. 

" Oh ! ” cried Ludwig, frightened at last, " where 
is he ? Perhaps he ’s had a fight with the robber 
and got killed.” 

"Not a bit of it,” said Peter, quietly, as he 
buttoned his stout jacket. " Look under the beds.” 

They did so. Carl was not there. 

Just then they heard a commotion on the stair- 
way. Ben hastened to open the door. The landlord 
almost tumbled in ; he was armed with a big blunder- 
buss. Two or three lodgers followed ; then the 

[ 170] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

daughter, with an upraised frying-pan in one hand 
and a candle in the other ; and behind her, looking 
pale and frightened, the gallant Carl. 

" There ’s your man, mine host,” said Peter, nod- 
ding toward the prisoner. 

Mine host raised his blunderbuss; the girl 
screamed; and Jacob, more nimble than usual, 
rolled quickly from the robber’s back. 

" Don’t fire ! ” cried Peter ; " he is tied hand and 
foot. Let ’s roll him over and see what he looks like.” 

Carl stepped briskly forward, with a blustering : 
"Yes. We 'll turn him over in a way he won’t like. 
Lucky we ’ve caught him ! ” 

"Ha, ha ! ” laughed Ludwig ; " where were you, 
Master Carl ? ” 

" Where was I ? ” retorted Carl, angrily. " Why, I 
went to give the alarm, to be sure.” 

All the boys exchanged glances, but they were too 
happy and elated to say anything ill-natured. Carl cer- 
tainly was bold enough now. He took the lead, while 
three others aided him in turning the helpless man. 

While the robber lay, face up, scowling and mut- 
tering, Ludwig took the candlestick from the girl’s 
hand. 

"I must have a good look at the beauty,” he said, 
drawing closer ; but the words were no sooner spoken 
than he turned pale and started so violently that he 
almost dropped the candle. 

" The voetspoelen ! ” he cried. "Why, boys, it ’s the 
man who sat by the fire ! ” 

[ 171 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Of course it is,” answered Peter. "We counted 
our money before him like simpletons. But what 
have we to do with voetspoelen , Brother Ludwig? 
A month in jail is punishment enough.” 

The landlord’s daughter had left the room. She 
now ran in, holding up a pair of huge wooden shoes. 
" See, father!” she cried, "here are his great ugly 
boots. It ’s the man that we put in the next room 
after the young masters went to bed. Ah ! it was 
wrong to send the poor young gentlemen up here 
so far out of sight and sound.” 

" The scoundrel ! ” hissed the landlord. "He has 
disgraced my house. I go for the police at once.” 

In less than fifteen minutes two drowsy-looking 
officers were in the room. After telling Mynheer 
Kleef that he must appear early in the morning with 
the boys and make his complaint before a magistrate, 
they marched off with their prisoner. 

One would think the captain and his band could 
have slept no more that night, but the mooring has 
not yet been found that can prevent youth and an 
easy conscience from drifting down the river of 
dreams. The boys were too much fatigued to let so 
slight a thing as capturing a robber bind them to 
wakefulness. They were soon in bed again, floating 
away to strange scenes made of familiar things. Ben 
dreamed that he was entering a city of windmills. 
Ludwig and Carl had spread their bedding upon the 
floor. One had already forgotten the voetspoelen , 
the race, everything ; but Carl was wide awake. He 
[ 02 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

heard the carillons ringing out their solemn nightly 
music and the watchman’s noisy clapper putting in 
discord at the quarter hours ; he saw the moonshine 
glide away from the window and the red morning 
light come pouring in ; and all the while he kept 
thinking, " Pooh ! what a goose I have made of 
myself ! ” 

Carl Schummel alone, with none to look or to 
listen, was not quite so grand a fellow as Carl 
Schummel strutting about in his boots. 


[ 173] 




XXII 

BEFORE THE COURT 



Y OU may believe the landlord’s daughter be- 
stirred herself to prepare a good meal for the 
boys next morning. Mynheer had a Chinese 
gong that could make more noise than a dozen of 
breakfast bells. Its hideous reveille clanging through 
the house generally startled the drowsiest lodgers into 
activity, but the maiden would not allow it to be 
sounded this morning. 

" Let the brave young gentlemen sleep,” she said 
to the greasy kitchen-boy; ''they shall be warmly 
fed when they waken.” 

It was ten o’clock when Captain Peter and his 
band came straggling down, one by one. 

"A pretty hour,” said mine host, gruffly. "It is 
high time we were before the court. Fine business 
this for a respectable inn. You will testify truly, 
young masters, that you found most excellent fare 
and lodgment at the Red Lion ? ” 




[ ‘ 74 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


"Of course we will,” answered Carl, saucily, "and 
pleasant company, too, though they visit at rather 
unseasonable hours.” 

A stare and a " humph ! ” was all the answer 
mynheer made to this, but the daughter was more 
communicative. Shaking her earrings at Carl, she 
said sharply, "Not so very pleasant, either, master 
traveler, if one could judge by the way you ran away 
from it ! ” 

" Impertinent creature ! ” hissed Carl, under his 
breath, as he began busily to examine his skate straps. 
Meantime the kitchen-boy, listening outside at the 
crack of the door, doubled himself with silent laughter. 

After breakfast the boys went to the police court, 
accompanied by Huygens Kleef and his daughter. 
Mynheer’s testimony was principally to the effect 
that such a thing as a robber at the Red Lion had 
been unheard of until last night ; and as for the 
Red Lion, it was a most respectable inn — as re- 
spectable as any house in Leyden. Each boy in 
turn told all he knew of the affair and identified the 
prisoner in the box as the same man who entered 
their room in the dead of night. Ludwig was sur- 
prised to find that the robber was a man of ordinary 
size, especially after he had described him, under 
oath, to the court, as a tremendous fellow, with 
great square shoulders and legs of prodigious weight. 
Jacob swore that he was awakened by the robber 
kicking and thrashing upon the floor; and, im- 
mediately afterward, Peter and the rest (feeling 

[ 1 7 5 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


sorry that they had not explained the matter to 
their sleepy comrade) testified that the man had not 
moved a muscle from the moment the point of the 
dagger touched his throat until, bound from head to 
foot, he was rolled over for inspection. The land- 
lord’s daughter made one boy blush and all the court 
smile by declaring that "if it hadn’t been for that 
handsome young gentleman there ” (pointing to 
Peter), they " might have all been murdered in their 
beds ; for the dreadful man had a great, shining 
knife, most as long as your Honor’s arm,” and 
she believed "the handsome young gentleman had 
struggled hard enough to get it away from him, but 
he was too modest, bless him ! to say so.” 

Finally, after a little questioning and cross-ques- 
tioning from the public prosecutor, the witnesses 
were dismissed, and the robber was handed over to 
the consideration of the criminal court. 

"The scoundrel!” said Carl, savagely, when the 
boys reached the street. "He ought to be sent 
to jail at once. If I had been in your place, Peter, 
I certainly should have killed him outright.” 

"He was fortunate, then, in falling into gentler 
hands,” was Peter’s quiet reply. " It appears he has 
been arrested before under a charge of housebreaking. 
He did not succeed in robbing, this time; but he 
broke the door fastenings, and that, I believe, makes 
a burglary in the eye of the law. He was armed with 
a knife, too ; and that makes it worse for him, poor 
fellow ! ” 


[ H6] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" Poor fellow ! ” mimicked Carl. " One would think 
he was your brother.” 

''So he is my brother, and yours, too, Carl 
Schummel, for that matter,” answered Peter, look- 
ing into Carl’s eye. "We cannot say what he might 
have become under other circumstances. We have 
been bolstered up from evil since the hour we 
were born. A happy home and good parents might 
have made that man a fine fellow instead of what 
he is. God grant that the law may cure and not 
crush him ! ” 

" Amen to that ! ” said Lambert, heartily ; while 
Ludwig van Holp looked at his brother in such a 
bright, proud way that Jacob Poot, who was an only 
son, wished from his heart that the little form buried 
in the old church at home had lived to grow up 
beside him. 

" Humph ! ” said Carl. " It ’s very well to be saintly 
and forgiving, and all that sort of thing; but I’m 
naturally hard. All these fine ideas seem to rattle 
off of me like hailstones ; and it ’s nobody’s business, 
either, if they do.” 

Peter recognized a touch of good feeling in this 
clumsy concession. Holding out his hand, he said 
in a frank, hearty tone, " Come, lad, shake hands 
and let us be good friends, even if we don’t exactly 
agree on all questions.” 

" We do agree better than you think,” sulked Carl, 
as he returned Peter’s grasp. 

"All right,” responded Peter, briskly. "Now, 

[ J 77 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

Van Mounen, we await Benjamin’s wishes. Where 
would he like to go ? ” 

“To the Egyptian Museum,” answered Lambert, 
after holding a brief consultation with Ben. 

“ That is on the Breedstraat. To the Museum let 
it be. Come, boys ! ” 


[•78] 



XXIII 

LEYDEN 


^HE boys met at the museum, and were soon 
engaged in examining its extensive collection 
of curiosities, receiving a new insight into 
Egyptian life, ancient and modern. Ben and 
Lambert had often visited the British Museum, but 
that did not prevent them from being surprised at 
the richness of the Leyden collection. There were 
household utensils, wearing apparel, weapons, musical 
instruments, sarcophagi, and mummies of men, women, 
and cats, ibexes, and other creatures. They saw a mas- 
sive gold armlet that had been worn by an Egyptian 
king at a time when some of these same mummies, 
perhaps, were nimbly treading the streets of Thebes ; 
and jewels and trinkets such as Pharaoh’s daughter 
wore and the children of Israel borrowed when they 
departed out of Egypt. 

There were other interesting relics from Rome 
and Greece and some curious Roman pottery, which 

[ 1 79 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

had been discovered in digging near The Hague — 
relics of the days when the countrymen of Julius 
Caesar had settled there. Where have they not 
settled! I, for one, would hardly be astonished if 
relics of the ancient Romans should some day be 
found deep under the grass growing round the 
Bunker Hill Monument. 

When the boys left this museum they went to 
another, and saw a wonderful collection of fossil 
animals, skeletons, birds, minerals, precious stones, 
and other natural specimens ; but as they were not 
learned men they could only walk about and stare, 
enjoy the little knowledge of natural history they 
possessed, and wish with all their hearts they had 
acquired more. Even the skeleton of the mouse 
puzzled Jacob. What wonder ? He was not used to 
see the cat-fearing little creatures running about in 
their bones ; and how could he ever have imagined 
their necks to be so queer ? 

Besides the Museum of Natural History, there 
was St. Peter’s Church to be visited, containing 
Professor Luzac’s Memorial, and Boerhaave’s Monu- 
ment of white and black marble, with its urn and 
carved symbols of the four ages of life, and its 
medallion of Boerhaave, adorned with his favorite 
motto, Simplex sigillum veri. They obtained admit- 
tance to a tea garden, which in summer was a favorite 
resort of the citizens, and passing native oaks and 
fruit trees, ascended a high mount which stood in the 
center. This was the site of a round tower, now in 

[ i8 ° ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


ruins, said by some to have been built by Hengist, 
the Anglo-Saxon king, and by others to have been 
the castle of one of the ancient counts of Holland. 

As the boys walked about on the top of its stone 
wall, they could get but a poor view of the surround- 
ing city. The tower stood higher when, more than 
two centuries ago, the inhabitants of beleaguered 
Leyden shouted to the watcher on its top their wild, 
despairing cries: ''Is there any help?” "Are the 
waters rising ? ” " What do you see ? ” And for 
months he could only answer : "No help. I see 
around us nothing but the enemy.” 

Ben pushed .these thoughts away ; and resolutely 
looking down into the bare tea garden, filled it in 
imagination with gay summer groups. He tried to 
forget old battle clouds and picture only curling 
wreaths of tobacco smoke, rising from among men, 
women, and children enjoying their tea and coffee 
in the open air. But a tragedy came in spite of him. 

Poot was bending over the edge of the high wall. 
It would be just like him to grow dizzy and tumble 
off. Ben turned impatiently away. If the fellow, 
with his weak head, knew no better 1 than to be ven- 
turesome, why, let him tumble. Horror ! what meant 
that heavy, crashing sound ? 

Ben could not stir. He could only gasp " Jacob ! ” 

" Jacob! ” cried another startled voice, and another. 

Ready to faint, Ben managed to turn his head. 
He saw a crowd of boys on the edge of the wall 
opposite, but Jacob was not there. 

[ 181 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Good heaven ! ” he cried, springing forward, 
" where is my cousin ? ” 

The crowd parted. It was only four boys, after 
all. There sat Jacob in their midst, holding his 
sides and laughing heartily. 

" Did I frighten you all ? ” he said in his native 
Dutch. " Well, I will tell you how it was. There was 
a big stone lying on the wall, and I put my foot out, 
just to push it a little, you see ; and the first thing I 
knew, down went the stone all the way to the bottom 
and left me sitting here on top with both my feet in 
the air. If I had not thrown myself back at that 
moment, I certainly should have rolled over after the 
stone. Well, it is no matter. Help me up, boys.” 

"You are hurt, Jacob,” said Ben, seeing a shade 
of seriousness pass over his cousin’s face as they 
lifted him to his feet. 

Jacob tried to laugh again. " Oh, no ! I feels 
little hurt ven I stant up ; but it ish no matter.” 

After tiffin the boys rested a while and then — took 
another, which, for form’s sake, they called dinner. 
After dinner they sat warming themselves at the inn 
— all but Peter, who occupied the time in another 
fruitless search for Dr. Boekman. 

This over, the party once more prepared for 
skating. They were thirteen miles from The Hague, 
and not as fresh as when they had left Broek earl/ 
on the previous day. But they were in good spirits, 
and the ice was excellent. 

[ 182 ] 



XXIV 


THE PALACE AND THE WOOD 



S THE boys skated onward they saw a number 


of fine countryseats, all decorated and sur- 


rounded according to the Dutchest of Dutch 


taste, but impressive to look upon, with their great 
formal houses, elaborate gardens, square hedges, 
and wide ditches — some crossed by a bridge hav- 
ing a gate in the middle to be carefully locked at 
night. These ditches, everywhere traversing the 
landscape, had long ago lost their summer film, and 
now shone under the sunlight like trailing ribbons 
of grass. 

The boys traveled bravely, all the while perform- 
ing the surprising feat of producing gingerbread from 
their pockets and causing it to vanish instantly. 

Twelve miles were passed. A few more strokes 
would take them to The Hague, when Van Mounen 
proposed that they should vary their course by walk- 
ing into the city through the Bosch. 


[183] 



HANS BRINKER 


" Agreed!” cried one and all; and their skates 
were off in a twinkling. 

The Bosch is a grand park, or wood, nearly two 
miles long, containing the celebrated House in the 
Wood, — Huis in ’t Bosch , — sometimes used as a 
royal residence. 

This building, though plain outside for a palace, 
is elegantly furnished within and finely frescoed ; that 
is, the walls and ceilings are covered with groups and 
designs painted directly upon them while the plaster 
was fresh. Some of the rooms are tapestried with 
Chinese silk beautifully embroidered. One contains 
a number of family portraits, among them a group 
of royal children, who in time were orphaned by a 
certain ax which figures very frequently in European 
history. These children were painted many times by 
the Dutch artist Van Dyck, who was court painter to 
their father, Charles the First of England. Beautiful 
children they were. What a deal of trouble the Eng- 
lish nation would have been spared had they been as 
perfect in heart and soul as they were in form ! 

The park surrounding the palace is charming, 
especially in summer, for flowers and birds make it 
bright as fairyland. Long rows of magnificent oaks 
rear their proud heads, conscious that no profaning 
hand will ever bring them low. In fact, the Wood 
has for ages been held as an almost sacred spot. 
Children are never allowed to meddle with its smallest 
twig ; the ax of the woodman has never resounded 
there. Even war and riot have passed it reverently, 

[ i 8 4 ] 




HANS BRINKER 

pausing for a moment in their devastating way. Philip 
of Spain, while he ordered Dutchmen to be mowed 
down by hundreds, issued a mandate that not a bough 
of the beautiful Wood should be touched. And once, 
when, in a time of great necessity, the State was 
about to sacrifice it to assist in filling a nearly ex- 
hausted treasury, the people rushed to the rescue 
and nobly contributed the required amount rather 
than that the Bosch should fall. 

What wonder, then, that the oaks have a grand, 
fearless air ? Birds from all Holland have told them 
how, elsewhere, trees are cropped and bobbed into 
shape ; but they are untouched. Year after year they 
expand in unclipped luxuriance and beauty. Their 
wide-spreading foliage, alive with song, casts a cool 
shade over lawn and pathway, or bows to its image 
in the sunny ponds. 

Meanwhile, as if to reward the citizens for allow- 
ing her to have her way for once, Nature departs 
from the invariable level, wearing gracefully the 
ornaments that have been reverently bestowed upon 
her. So the lawn slopes in a velvety green ; the 
paths wind in and out ; flower beds glow and send 
forth perfume ; and ponds and sky look at each other 
in mutual admiration. 

Even on that winter day the Bosch was beautiful. 
Its trees were bare, but beneath them still lay the 
ponds, every ripple smoothed into glass. The blue 
sky was bright overhead ; and as it looked down 
through the thicket of boughs, it saw another blue 
[ 186 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

sky, not nearly so bright, looking up from the dim 
thicket under the ice. 

Peter drew a vivid picture of its summer charms, 
and made the boys smile as he glowingly described 
the noble ladies and pretty girls in holiday array 
whom he had met in his afternoon walks to the 
delightful park. 

Never had the sunset appeared more beautiful 
to Peter than when he saw it exchanging farewell 
glances with the windows and shining roofs of the 
city before him. Never had The Hague itself seemed 
more inviting. He was no longer Peter van Holp, 
going to visit a great city, nor a fine young gentle- 
man bent on sight-seeing ; he was a knight, an ad- 
venturer travel-soiled and weary, a hop-o’-my-thumb 
grown large, a Fortunatus approaching the enchanted 
castle where luxury and ease awaited him ; for his 
own sister’s house was not half a mile away. 

"At last, boys,’’ he cried in high glee, "we may 
hope for a royal resting place — good beds, warm 
rooms, and something to eat. I never realized before 
what a luxury such things are. Our lodgings at the 
Red Lion have made us appreciate our own homes.” 


[187] 



XXV 

THE MERCHANT PRINCE AND THE SISTER 
PRINCESS 

W ELL might Peter feel that his sister’s 
house was like an enchanted castle. Large 
and elegant as it was, a spell of quiet hung 
over it. The very lion crouching at its gate seemed 
to have been turned into stone through magic. Within, 
it was guarded by genii in the shape of red-faced 
servants, who sprang silently forth at the summons of 
bell or knocker. There was a cat, also, who appeared 
as knowing as any Puss in Boots ; and a brass gnome 
in the hall, whose business it was to stand with out- 
stretched arms ready to receive sticks and umbrellas. 
Safe within the walls bloomed a Garden of Delight, 
where the flowers firmly believed it was summer, and 
a sparkling fountain was laughing merrily to itself 
because Jack Frost could not find it. There was a 
Sleeping Beauty, too, just at the time of the boys’ 
arrival. But when Peter, like a true prince, flew 
[188] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


lightly up the stairs and kissed her eyelids, the en- 
chantment was broken. The princess became his own 
good sister, and the fairy castle just one of the finest, 
most comfortable houses of The Hague. 

As may well be believed, the -boys received the 
heartiest of welcomes. After they had conversed a 
while with their lively hostess, one of the genii sum- 
moned them to a grand repast in a red-curtained 
room, where floor and ceiling shone like polished 
ivory, and the mirrors suddenly blossomed into rosy- 
cheeked boys as far as the eye could reach. 

They had caviar now, and salmagundi, and sau- 
sage and cheese, besides salad and fruit and biscuit 
and cake.* How the boys could partake of such a 
medley was a mystery to Ben, for the salad was 
sour, and the cake was sweet ; the fruit was dainty, 
and the salmagundi heavy with onions and fish. But 
while he was wondering, he made a hearty meal, and 
was soon absorbed in deciding which he really pre- 
ferred — the coffee or the anisette cordial. It was 
delightful, too — this taking one’s food from dishes of 
frosted silver and liqueur glasses from which Titania 
herself might have sipped. The young gentleman 
afterward wrote to his mother that pretty and choice 
as things were at home, he had never known what 
cut glass, china, and silver services were until he 
visited The Hague. 

Of course Peter’s sister soon heard of all the boys’ 
adventures — how they had skated over forty miles 
and seen rare sights on the way ; how they had lost 
[189] . 


HANS BRINKER 


their purse and found it again ; how one of the party 
had fallen and given them an excuse for a grand sail 
in an ice-boat ; how, above all, they had caught a rob- 
ber, and so, for a second time, saved their slippery 
purse. 

"And now, Peter,” said the lady, when the story 
was finished, "you must write at once to tell the 
good people of Broek that your adventures have 
reached their height, that you and your fellow trav- 
elers have all been taken prisoners.” 

The boys looked startled. 

" Indeed, I shall do no such thing,” laughed Peter. 
"We must leave to-morrow at noon.” 

But the sister had already decided differently ; and 
a Holland lady is not to be easily turned from her 
purpose. In short, she held forth such strong temp- 
tations, and was so bright and cheerful and said 
so many coaxing and unanswerable things, both in 
English and Dutch, that the boys were all delighted 
when it was settled that they should remain at The 
Hague for at least two days. 

Next the grand skating race was talked over. 
Mevrouw van Gend gladly promised to be present on 
the occasion. " I shall witness your triumph, Peter,” 
she said, "for you are the fastest skater I ever knew.” 

Peter blushed and gave a slight cough, as Carl 
answered for him, "Ah, mevrouw , he is swift; but 
all the Broek boys are fine skaters, even the rag- 
pickers”; and he thought bitterly of poor Hans. 

The lady laughed. " That will make the race all 

[ 19° ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

the more exciting,” she said. " But I shall wish each 
of you to be the winner.” 

At this moment her husband, Mynheer van Gend, 
came in, and the enchantment falling upon the boys 
was complete. 

The invisible fairies of the household at once clus- 
tered about them, whispering that Jasper van Gend 
had a heart as young and fresh as their own; and if 
he loved anything in this world more than industry, 
it was sunshine and frolic. They hinted, also, some- 
thing about his having a heart full of love and a head 
full of wisdom, and finally gave the boys to under- 
stand that when mynheer said a thing, he meant it. 

Therefore his frank "Well, now, this is pleasant,” 
as he shook hands with them all, made the boys feel 
quite at home and as happy as squirrels. 

Peter the little (comparatively speaking) was up first 
the next morning. Knowing the punctual habits of 
his brother-in-law, he took good care that none of the 
boys should oversleep themselves. A hard task he 
found it to wake Jacob Poot ; but after pulling that 
young gentleman out of bed and, with Ben’s help, 
dragging him about the room for a while, he suc- 
ceeded in arousing him. 

While Jacob was dressing, and moaning within 
him because the felt slippers provided him as a guest 
were too tight for his swollen feet, Peter wrote to 
inform their friends at Broek of the safe arrival of 
his party at The Hague. He also begged his mother 
[ i 9 i ] 


HANS BRINKER 

to send word to Hans Brinker that Dr. Boekman had 
not yet reached Leyden, but that a letter containing 
Hans’s message had been left at the hotel where the 
doctor always lodged during his visits to the city. 
"Tell him, also,” wrote Peter, "that I shall call there 
again as I pass through Leyden. The poor boy seemed 
to feel sure that the meester would hasten to save his 
father; but we, who know the gruff old gentleman 
better, may be confident he will do no such thing. It 
would be a kindness to send a visiting physician from 
Amsterdam to the cottage at once, if Jufvrouw Brinker 
will consent to receive any but the great king of the 
meesters , as Dr. Boekman certainly is. 

"You know, mother,” added Peter, "that I have 
always considered Sister van Gend’s house as rather 
quiet and lonely ; but I assure you it is not so now. 
Sister says our presence has warmed it for the whole 
winter. Brother van Gend is very kind to us all. 
He says we make him wish that he had a houseful 
of boys of his own. He has promised to let us ride 
on his noble black horses. They are gentle as 
kittens, he says, if one have but a firm touch at the 
rein. Ben, according to Jacob’s account, is a glori- 
ous rider, and your son Peter is not a very bad hand 
at the business ; so we two are to go out together 
this morning, mounted like knights of old. After 
we return Brother van Gend says he will lend 
Jacob his English pony and obtain three extra 
horses, and all of the party are to trot about the city 
in a grand cavalcade, led on by him. He will ride 

[ > 9 »] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

the black horse which father sent him from Fries- 
land. My sister’s pretty roan, with the long white 
tail, is lame ; and she will ride none other, else she 
would accompany us. I could scarce close my eyes 
last night after sister told me of the plan. Only 
the thought of poor Hans Brinker and his sick 
father checked me ; but for that I could have sung 
for joy. Ludwig has given us a name already — the 
Broek Cavalry. We flatter ourselves that we shall 
make an imposing appearance, especially in single 
file.” 

The Broek Cavalry were not disappointed. Myn- 
heer van Gend readily procured good horses ; and 
all the boys could ride, though none were as perfect 
horsemen (or horseboys) as Peter and Ben. They 
saw The Hague to their heart’s content ; and The 
Hague saw them, expressing its approbation loudly, 
through the mouths of small boys and cart-dogs ; 
silently, through bright eyes, that, not looking very 
deeply into things, shone as they looked at the 
handsome Carl, and twinkled with fun as a certain 
portly youth with shaking cheeks rode past, " bum- 
petty, bumpetty, bump ! ” 


[ *93 ] 



XXVI 


THROUGH THE HAGUE 



'HILE tramping on foot through the city, 
Ben often longed for a good English side- 
walk. Here, as in the other towns, there 
was no curb, no raised pavement for foot travelers ; 
but the streets were clean and even, and all vehicles 
were kept scrupulously within a certain tract. Strange 
to say, there were nearly as many sleds as wagons to 
be seen, though there was not a particle of snow. The 
sleds went scraping over the bricks or cobblestones — 
some provided with an apparatus in front for sprink- 
ling water, to diminish the friction, and some ren- 
dered less musical by means of a dripping oil-rag, 
which the driver occasionally applied to the runners. 

Ben was surprised at the noiseless way in which 
Dutch laborers do their work. Even around the 
warehouses and docks there was no bustle, no shout- 
ing from one to another. A certain twitch of the 
pipe, or turn of the head, or at most a raising of 

[ J 94 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

the hand seemed to be all the signal necessary. 
Entire loads of cheeses or herrings are pitched from 
cart or canal boat into the warehouses without a 
word ; but the passer-by must take his chance of 
being pelted, for a Dutchman seldom looks before 
or behind him while engaged at work. 

Poor Jacob Poot, who seemed destined to bear all the 
mishaps of the journey, was knocked nearly breathless 
by a great cheese which a fat Dutchman was throw- 
ing to a fellow laborer ; but he recovered himself and 
passed on without evincing the least indignation. 

Ben professed great sympathy on the occasion, 
but Jacob insisted that it was " notting.” 

" Then why did you screw your face so when it 
hit you ? ” 

" What for screw mine face ? ” repeated Jacob, 
soberly. " Vy, it vash de — de ” 

" The what ? ” insisted Ben, maliciously. 

"Vy, de — de — vat you call dis vat you taste 
mit de nose ? ” 

Ben laughed. 

" Oh ! you mean the smell.” 

" Yesh. Dat ish it,” said Jacob, eagerly. " It 
wash de shmell. I draw mine face for dat.” 

" Ha, ha ! ” roared Ben, " that ’s a good one. A 
Dutch boy smell a cheese ! You can never make 
me believe that!' 

"Veil, it ish no matter,” replied Jacob, trudging 
on beside Ben in perfect good-humor ; " vait till you 
hit mit cheese, dat ish all.” 

[ *95 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Soon he added pathetically, " Penchamin, I no 
likes be call Tutch ; dat ish no goot. I bees a 
Hollander.” 

Just as Ben was apologizing, Lambert hailed him. 

" Hold up, Ben. Here is the fish market. There 
is not much to be seen at this season. But we can 
take a look at the storks, if you wish.” 

Ben knew that storks were held in peculiar rever- 
ence in Holland, and that the bird figured upon the 
arms of the capital. He had noticed cart wheels 
placed upon the roofs of Dutch cottages to entice 
storks to settle upon them ; he had seen their huge 
nests, too, on many a thatched gable roof from 
Broek to The Hague. But it was winter now. The 
nests were empty. No greedy birdlings open their 
mouths, or, rather, their heads, at the approach of 
a great white-winged thing, with outstretched neck 
and legs, bearing a dangling something for their 
breakfast. The longbills were far away, picking up 
food on African shores ; and before they would 
return in the spring, Ben’s visit to the land of dikes 
would be over. 

Therefore he pressed eagerly forward as Van 
Mounen led the way through the fish market, anx- 
ious to see if storks in Holland were anything like 
the melancholy specimens he had seen in the Zoo- 
logical Gardens of London. 

It was the same old story. A tamed bird is a sad 
bird, say what you will. These storks lived in a sort 
of kennel, chained by the feet, like felons, though 
[ j 96 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


supposed to be honored by being kept at the public 
expense. In summer they were allowed to walk 
about the market, where the fish stalls were like so 
many free dining- saloons to them. Untasted delica- 
cies in the form of raw fish and butcher’s offals lay 
about their kennels now, but the city guests pre- 
ferred to stand upon one leg, curving back their long 
necks and leaning their heads sidewise, in a blink- 
ing reverie. How gladly they would have changed 
their petted state for the busy life of some hard- 
working stork mother or father, bringing up a 
troublesome family on the roof of a rickety old 
building, where flapping windmills frightened them 
half to death every time they ventured forth on 
a frolic ! 

Another thing attracted Ben — the milkmen’s carts. 
These were small affairs, filled with shiny brass ket- 
tles or stone jars, and drawn by dogs. The milkman 
walked meekly beside his cart, keeping his dog in 
order and delivering the milk to customers. Certain 
fish dealers had dogcarts also ; and when a herring- 
dog chanced to meet a milk-dog, he invariably put 
on airs and growled as he passed him. Even the 
dogs of the huckster women, lean and hard-worked 
enough, poor things, had sufficient spirit to champ 
and snarl while their mistresses were squabbling. 
Sometimes a milk-dog would recognize an acquaint- 
ance before another milk-cart across the street ; 
and then how the kettles would rattle, especially if 

[* 97 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


they were empty ! Each dog would give a bound 
and, never caring for his master’s whistle, insist 
upon meeting the other halfway. Sometimes they 
contented themselves with an inquisitive sniff ; but 
generally the smaller dog made an affectionate snap 
at the larger one’s ear, or a friendly tussle was 
engaged in by way of exercise. Then woe to the 
milk-kettles and woe to the dogs ! 

The whipping over, each dog, expressing his 
feelings as best he could, would trot leisurely back 
to his work. 

If some of these animals were eccentric in their 
ways, others were remarkably well behaved. In fact, 
there was a school for dogs in the city, established 
expressly for training them ; Ben probably saw some 
of its graduates. Many a time he noticed a span of 
barkers trotting along the street, with all the dignity 
of horses, obeying the slightest hint of the man walk- 
ing briskly beside them. Sometimes, when their load 
was delivered, the dealer would jump in the cart and 
have a fine drive to his home beyond the gates of 
the city ; and sometimes, I regret to say, a patient 
vrouw would trudge beside the cart, with fish basket 
upon her head and a child in her arms, while her 
lord enjoyed his drive, carrying no heavier burden 
than a stumpy clay pipe, the smoke of which 
mounted lovingly into her face. 


[ ' 9 8 ] 



HOMEWARD BOUND 

O N MONDAY morning, bright and early, our 
| boys bade farewell to their kind entertainers 
and started on their homeward journey. 
Peter lingered awhile at the lion-guarded door, for 
he and his sister had many parting words to say. 

As Ben saw them bidding each other good-by, he 
could not help feeling that kisses, as well as clocks, 
were wonderfully alike everywhere. The English 
kiss that his sister Jenny gave when he left home 
had said the same thing to him that Vrouw van 
Gend’s Dutch kiss said to Peter. Ludwig had taken 
his share of the farewell in the most matter-of-fact 
manner possible, and though he loved his sister well, 
had winced a little at her making such a child of 
him as to put an extra kiss "for mother” upon 
his forehead. 

He was already upon the canal with Carl and 
Jacob. Were they thinking about sisters or kisses ? 

[ J 99 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Not a bit of it 4 They were so happy to be on skates 
once more, so impatient to dart at once into the very 
heart of Broek, that they spun and wheeled about 
like crazy fellows, relieving themselves, meantime, 
by muttering something about " Peter and donder ” 
not worth translating. 

Even Lambert and Ben, who had been waiting 
at the street corner, began to grow impatient. 

The captain joined them at last. They were soon 
on the canal with the rest. 

" Hurry up, Peter!” growled Ludwig. ''We’re 
freezing by inches — There ! I knew you ’d be 
the last, after all, to get on your skates.” 

” Did you ? ” said his brother, looking up with an 
air of deep interest — " clever boy ! ” 

Ludwig laughed, but tried to look cross, as he 
said : " I’m in earnest, anyhow. We must get home 
sometime this year.” 

" Now, boys ! ” cried Peter, springing up, as he 
fastened the last buckle. " There ’s a clear way 
before us. We will imagine it ’s the grand race. 
Ready ! One, two, three — start ! ” 

I assure you very little was said for the first half 
hour. They were six Mercuries skimming the ice. 
In plain English they went like lightning. No, that 
is imaginary too. The fact is, one cannot decide 
what to say when half a dozen boys are whizzing 
past at such a rate. I can only tell you that each 
did his best, flying, with bent body and eager eyes, 
in and out among the placid skaters on the canal, 
[ 200 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

until the very guard shouted to them to " Hold up ! ” 
This only served to send them onward with a two-boy 
power that startled all beholders. 

But the laws of inertia are stronger even than 
canal guards. 

After a while Jacob slackened his speed, then 
Ludwig, then Lambert, then Carl. 

They soon halted to take a long breath, and finally 
found themselves . standing in a group, gazing after 
Peter and Ben, who were still racing in the distance 
as if their lives were at stake. 

"It is very evident,” said Lambert, as he and his 
three companions started on again, " that neither of 
them will give up if he can help it.” 

" What foolishness ! ” growled Carl, " to tire them- 
selves at the beginning of the journey. But they ’re 
racing in earnest, that ’s certain. Halloo ! Peter ’s 
flagging ! ” 

"Not so ! ” cried Ludwig. " Catch him being 
beaten ! ” 

"Ha, ha ! ” sneered Carl. " I tell you, boy, Benja- 
min is ahead.” 

Now, if Ludwig disliked anything in this world, 
it was to be called a boy — probably because he was 
nothing else. He grew indignant at once. 

" Humph ! what are you , I wonder ? There, sir ! 
now look and see if Peter is n’t ahead ! ” 

"/think he is” interposed Lambert; "but I can’t 
quite tell at this distance.” 

"/think he is n’t ! ” retorted Carl. 

[ 201 J 


HANS BRINKER 

Jacob was growing anxious. He always abhorred 
an argument; so he said in a coaxing tone, " Don’t 
quarrel, don’t quarrel ! ” 

" Don’t quarrel ! ” mocked Carl, looking back at 
Jacob as he skated. " Who ’s quarreling? Poot, 
you ’re a goose ! ” 

" I can’t help that,” was Jacob’s meek reply. 
" See ! they are nearing the turn of the canal.” 

" Now we can see!” cried Ludwig, in great excite- 
ment. " Peter will make it first, I know.” 

" He can’t, for Ben is ahead ! ” insisted Carl. 
"Gunst! That ice-boat will run over him. No, he is 
clear ! They ’re a couple of geese, anyhow. Hurrah, 
they are at the turn ! Now who ’s ahead ? ” 

" Peter ! ” cried Ludwig, joyfully. 

" Good for the captain ! ” ^shouted Lambert and 
Jacob. 

And Carl condescended to mutter, " It is Peter, 
after all. I thought all the time that head fellow 
was Ben.” 

This turn in the canal had evidently been their 
goal, for the two racers came to a sudden halt after 
passing it. 

Carl said something about being " glad that they 
had sense enough to stop and rest”; and the four 
boys skated on in silence to overtake their companions. 

All the while Carl was secretly wishing that he had 
kept on with Peter and Ben, as he felt sure he could 
easily have come out winner. He was a very rapid, 
though by no means a graceful, skater. 

[ 202 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


Ben was looking at Peter with mingled vexation, 
admiration, and surprise as the boys drew near. 

They heard him saying in English, "You’re a 
perfect bird on the ice, Peter van Holp. The first fel- 
low that ever beat me in a fair race, I can tell you!” 

Peter, who understood the language better than he 
could speak it, returned a laughing bow at Ben’s 
compliment, but made no further reply. Possibly he 
was scant of breath at the time. 

"Now, Penchamin, vat you do mit youself ? Get 
so hot as a fire-brick ; dat ish no goot,” was Jacob’s 
plaintive comment. 

"Nonsense!” answered Ben. "This frosty air will 
cool me soon enough. I am not tired.” 

"You are beaten, though, my boy,” said Lambert, 
in English, "and fairly too. How will it be, I wonder, 
on the day of the grand race ? ” 

Ben flushed ; and as he sailed off, looking back 
rather wearily, he gave a proud, defiant laugh, as if 
to say: "This was mere pastime. I’m determined 
to beat then, come what may.” 


[ 2 °3 ] 



XXVIII 


BOYS AND GIRLS 


kT THE time the boys reached the village of 



Voorhout, which stands near the grand canal, 


JUy about halfway between The Hague and Haar- 
lem, they were forced to hold a council. The wind, 
though moderate at first, had grown stronger and 
stronger, until at last they could hardly skate against 
it. The weather vanes throughout the country had 
evidently entered into a conspiracy. 

"No use trying to face such a blow as this,” said 
Ludwig. " It cuts its way down a man’s throat like 
a knife.” 

"Keep your mouth shut, then,” grunted the affable 
Carl, who was strong-chested as a young ox. "I’m 
for keeping on.” 

" In this case,” interposed Peter, "we must consult 
the weakest of the party rather than the strongest.” 

The captain’s principle was all right, but its- applica- 
tion was not flattering to Master Ludwig. Shrugging 


[204] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


his shoulders, he retorted, "Who’s weak? Not I, for 
one. But the wind ’s stronger than any of us. I hope 
you ’ll condescend to admit that.’’ 

" Ha, ha ! ’’ laughed Van Mounen, who could barely 
keep his feet. " So it is.’’ 

Just then the weather vanes telegraphed to each 
other by a peculiar twitch, and in an instant the gust 
came. It nearly threw the strong-chested Carl ; it 
almost strangled Jacob, and quite upset Ludwig. 

"This settles the question,’’ shouted Peter. "Off 
with your skates! We’ll go into Voorhout.’’ 

At Voorhout they found a little inn with a big yard. 
The yard was well bricked and, better than all, was 
provided with a complete set of skittles ; so our boys 
soon turned the detention into a frolic. The wind was 
troublesome, even in that sheltered quarter, but they 
were on good standing-ground and did not mind it. 

First a hearty dinner, then the game. With pins 
as long as their arms and balls as big as their heads, 
plenty of strength left for rolling, and a clean sweep of 
sixty yards for the strokes, no wonder they were happy. 

That night Captain Peter and his men slept 
soundly. No prowling robber came to disturb them; 
and as they were distributed in separate rooms, they 
did not even have a bolster-battle in the morning. 

Such a breakfast as they ate ! The landlord looked 
frightened. When he had asked them where they 
"belonged,” he made up his mind that the Broek 
people starved their children. It was a shame, " Such 
fine young gentlemen too ! ” 

[ 2 °5 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Fortunately the wind had tired itself out and fallen 
asleep in the great sea-cradle beyond the Dunes. There 
were signs of snow ; otherwise, the weather was fine. 

It was mere child’s play for the well-rested boys 
to skate to Leyden. Here they halted awhile, for 
Peter had an errand at the Golden Eagle. He left 
the city with a lightened heart. Dr. Boekman had 
been at the hotel, read the note containing Hans’s 
message, and departed for Broek. 

" I cannot say it was your letter sent him off so 
soon,” explained the landlord. " Some rich lady in 
Broek was taken bad very sudden, and he was sent 
for in haste.” 

Peter turned pale. 

" What was the name ? ” he asked. 

" Indeed, it went in one ear and out of the other, 
for all I hindered it. Plague to people who can’t 
see a traveler in comfortable lodgings, but they must 
whisk him off before one can breathe! ” 

"A lady in Broek, did you say?” 

"Yes,” very gruffly. "Any other business, young 
master ? ” 

"No, mine host, except that I and my comrades 
here would like a bite of something and a drink of 
hot coffee.” 

" Ah ! ” said the landlord, sweetly. " A bite you shall 
have, and coffee too — the finest in Leyden. Walk up 
to the stove, my masters. Now I think again, that 
was a widow-lady from Rotterdam, I think they said, 
visiting at one Van Stoepel’s if I mistake not.” 

[ 206 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


" Ah ! ” said Peter, greatly relieved. " They live 
in the white house by the Schlossen Mill. Now, 
Mynheer, the coffee, please.” 

" What a goose I was ! ” thought he, as the party 
left the Golden Eagle, " to feel so sure it was my 
mother. But she may be somebody’s mother, poor 
woman, for all that. Who can she be, I wonder ? ” 

There were not many upon the canal that day, 
between Leyden and Haarlem. However, as the 
boys neared Amsterdam, they found themselves once 
more in the midst of a moving throng. The big 
ysbreeker had been at work for the first time that 
season, but there was any amount of skating ground 
left yet. 

" Three cheers for home ! ” cried Van Mounen, 
as they came in sight of the great Western Dock 
( Westelijk Dok ). "Hurrah, hurrah!” shouted one 
and all. " Hurrah, hurrah ! ” 

This trick of cheering was an importation among 
our party. Lambert van Mounen had brought it 
from England. As they always gave it in English, 
it was considered quite an exploit and, when circum- 
stances permitted, always enthusiastically performed, 
to the sore dismay of their quiet-loving countrymen. 

Therefore their arrival at Amsterdam created a 
great sensation, especially among the small boys on 
the wharves. 

The Y was crossed. They were on the Broek 
Canal. 

Lambert’s home was reached first. 

[207] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Good-by, boys ! ” he cried, as he left them. 
"Weve had the greatest frolic ever known in 
Holland.” 

" So we have. Good-by, Van Mounen! ” answered 
the boys. 

" Good-by ! ” 

Peter hailed him. " I say, Van Mounen, the 
classes begin to-morrow ! ” 

" I know it. Our holiday is over. Good-by, Ben ! ” 

" Good-by! ” shouted Ben, somewhat sadly, for he 
hated to see the pleasant party breaking up. 

Broek came in sight. Such meetings ! Katrinka 
was on the canal. Carl was delighted. Hilda was 
there. Peter felt rested in an instant. Rychie was 
there. Ludwig and Jacob nearly knocked each other 
over in their eagerness to shake hands with her. 

Dutch girls are modest and generally quiet, but 
they have very glad eyes. For a few moments it was 
hard to decide whether Hilda, Rychie, or Katrinka 
felt the most happy. 

Annie Bouman was also on the canal, looking even 
prettier than the other maidens, in her graceful peas- 
ant’s costume. But she did not mingle with Rychie’s 
party ; neither did she look unusually happy. 

The one she liked most to see was not among the 
newcomers. Indeed, he was not upon the canal at 
all. She had not been near Broek before, since the 
eve of St. Nicholas ; for she was staying with her sick 
grandmother in Amsterdam, and had been granted 
a brief resting spell, as the grandmother called it, 
[ 208 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

because she had been such a faithful little nurse 
night and day. 

Annie had devoted her resting spell to skating with 
all her might toward Broek and back again, in the hope 
of meeting her mother, or some of her family, on the 
canal ; or, it might be, Gretel Brinker. Not one of 
them had she seen ; and she must hurry back without 
even catching a glimpse of her mother’s cottage, for 
the poor helpless grandmother, she knew, was by this 
time moaning for someone to turn her upon her cot. 

"Where can Gretel be?” thought Annie, as she 
flew over the ice. " She can almost always steal a 
few moments from her work at this time of day. 
Poor Gretel ! What a dreadful thing it must be to 
have a dull father ! I should be woefully afraid of 
him, I know — so strong, and yet so strange!” 

Annie had not heard of his illness. Dame Brinker 
and her affairs received but little notice from the 
people of the place. 

If Gretel had not been known as a goose-girl, she 
might have had more friends among the peasantry of 
the neighborhood. As it was, Annie Bouman was the 
only one who did not feel ashamed to avow herself by 
word and deed the companion of Gretel and Hans. 

When the neighbors’ children laughed at her for 
keeping such poor company, she would simply flush 
when Hans was ridiculed, or laugh in a careless, dis- 
dainful way. But to hear little Gretel abused always 
awakened her wrath. 

" Goose-girl, indeed ! ” she would say. " I can tell 
[ 2 °9 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


you any of you are fitter for the work than she. My 
father often said last summer that it troubled him to 
see such a bright-eyed, patient little maiden tending 
geese. Humph ! she would not harm them, as you 
would, Janzoon Kolp ; and she would not tread upon 
them, as you might, Kate Wouters.” 

This would be pretty sure to start a laugh at the 
clumsy, ill-natured Kate’s expense ; and Annie would 
walk loftily away from the group of young gossips. 
Perhaps some memory of Gretel’s assailants crossed 
her mind as she skated rapidly toward Amsterdam, 
for her eyes sparkled ominously and she more than 
once gave her pretty head a defiant toss. When that 
mood passed, such a bright, rosy, affectionate look il- 
lumined her face that more than one weary working- 
man turned to gaze after her and to wish that he had 
a glad, contented lass like that for a daughter. 

There were five joyous households in Broek that 
night. The boys were back safe and sound, and 
they found all well at home. Even the sick lady at 
neighbor Van Stoepel’s was out of danger. 

But the next morning! Ah, how stupidly school 
bells will ding-dong, ding-dong, when one is tired. 

Ludwig was sure he had never listened to any- 
thing so odious. Even Peter felt pathetic on the oc- 
casion. Carl said it was a shame for a fellow to have 
to turn out when his bones were splitting. And Jacob 
soberly bade Ben " Goot-by ! ” and walked off with 
his satchel as if it weighed a hundred pounds. 

[210] 



XXIX • 
THE CRISIS 



’HILE the boys are nursing their fatigue, we 
will take a peep into the Brinker cottage. 
Can it be that Gretel and her mother 
have not stirred since we saw them last ? that the 
sick man upon the bed has not even turned over ? 
It was four days ago, and there is the sad group 
just as it was before. No, not precisely the same ; 
for Raff Brinker is paler ; his fever is gone, though 
he knows nothing of what is passing. Then they 
were alone in the bare, clean room. Now there is 
another group in an opposite corner. 

Dr. Boekman is there, talking in a low tone with 
a stout young man, who listens intently. The stout 
young man is his student and assistant. Hans is 
there also. He stands near the window, respectfully 
waiting until he shall be accosted. 

" You see, Vollenhoven,” said Dr. Boekman, "it 
is a clear case of — ” And here the doctor went off 
[211] 


HANS BRINKER 


into a queer jumble of Latin and Dutch that I can- 
not conveniently translate. 

After a while, as Vollenhoven looked at him rather 
blankly, the learned man condescended to speak to 
him in simpler phrase. 

" It is probably like Rip Donderdunck’s case,” he 
explained in a low, mumbling tone. " He fell from 
the top of Voppelploot’s windmill. After the acci- 
dent the man was stupid and finally became idiotic. 
In time he lay helpless, like yon fellow on the bed ; 
moaned, too, like him, and kept constantly lifting his 
hand to his head. My learned friend Van Choppem 
performed an operation upon this Donderdunck, and 
discovered under the skull a small dark sac, which 
pressed upon the brain. This had been the cause 
of the trouble. My friend Van Choppem removed 
it — a splendid operation! You see, according to 
Celsus — ” and here the doctor again went off into 
Latin. 

“ Did the man live?” asked the assistant, respect- 
fully. 

Dr. Boekman scowled. " That is of no conse- 
quence. I believe he died. But why not fix your 
mind on the grand features of the case ? Consider 
a moment how — ” and he plunged into Latin mys- 
teries more deeply than ever. 

" But Mynheer,” gently persisted the student, who 
knew that the doctor would not rise to the surface 
for hours, unless pulled at once from his favorite 
depths ; " Mynheer, you have other engagements 
[212] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

to-day — three legs in Amsterdam, you remember, and 
an eye in Broek, and that tumor up the canal.” 

" The tumor can wait,” said the doctor, reflec- 
tively. " That is another beautiful case — a beautiful 
case ! The woman has not lifted her head from her 
shoulder for two months. Magnificent tumor, sir ! ” 

The doctor, by this time, was speaking aloud. He 
had quite forgotten where he was. 

Vollenhoven made another attempt. 

"This poor fellow on the bed, Mynheer. Do you 
think you can save him ? ” 

"Ah, indeed, certainly,” stammered the doctor, 
suddenly perceiving that he had been talking rather 
off the point — "certainly; that is, I hope so.” 

" If anyone in Holland can, Mynheer,” murmured 
the assistant, with honest bluntness, "it is yourself.” 

The doctor looked displeased, growled out a tender 
request for the student to talk less, and beckoned 
Hans to draw near. 

This strange man had a great horror of speaking 
to women, especially on surgical matters. " One can 
never tell,” he said, " what moment the creatures 
will scream or faint.” Therefore he explained Raff 
Brinker’s case to Hans, and told him what he be- 
lieved should be done to save the patient. 

Hans listened attentively, growing red and pale 
by turns and throwing quick, anxious glances toward 
the bed. 

" It may kill the father, did you say, Mynheer?” 
he exclaimed at last, in a trembling whisper. 

[213] 


HANS BRINKER 

" It may, my boy. But I have a strong belief that 
it will cure and not kill. Ah, if boys were not such 
dunces ! I could lay the whole matter before you, 
but it would be of no use.” 

Hans looked blank at this compliment. 

" It would be of no use,” repeated Dr. Boekman, 
indignantly. " A great operation is proposed ; but 
one might as well do it with a hatchet. The only 
question asked is, 1 Will it kill ? ’ ” 

"The question is everything to us, Mynheer,” said 
Hans, with tearful dignity. 

Dr. Boekman looked at him in sudden dismay. 

" Ah, exactly so ! You are right, boy ; I am a 
fool ! Good boy. One does not wish one’s father 
killed — of course not. I am a fool ! ” 

"Will he die, Mynheer, if this sickness goes 
on ? ” 

" Humph ! this is no new illness. The same thing 
growing worse every instant — pressure on the brain. 
Will take him off soon, like that” said the doctor, 
snapping his fingers. 

"And the operation may save him,” pursued Hans. 
" How soon, Mynheer, can we know ? ” 

Dr. Boekman grew impatient. 

"In a day — perhaps an hour. Talk with your 
mother, boy, and let her decide. My time is short.” 

Hans approached his mother. At first, when she 
looked up at him, he could not utter a syllable ; then 
turning his eyes away, he said in a firm voice, " I 
must speak with the mother alone.” 

[214] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


Quick little Gretel, who could not quite understand 
what was passing, threw rather an indignant look at 
Hans and walked away. 

" Come back, Gretel, and sit down,” said Hans, 
sorrowfully. 

She obeyed. 

Dame Brinker and her boy stood by the window, 
while the doctor and his assistant, bending over the 
bedside, conversed together in a low tone. There was 
no danger of disturbing the patient. He appeared 
like one blind and deaf. Only his faint, piteous 
moans showed him to be a living man. Hans was 
talking earnestly and in a low voice, for he did not 
wish his sister to hear. 

With dry, parted lips Dame Brinker leaned toward 
him, searching his face, as if suspecting a meaning 
beyond his words. Once she gave a quick, fright- 
ened sob that made Gretel start, but after that 
she listened calmly. 

When Hans ceased to speak his mother turned, 
gave one long, agonized look at her husband, lying 
there so pale and unconscious, and threw herself on 
her knees beside the bed. 

Poor little Gretel ! what did all this mean ? She 
looked with questioning eyes at Hans — he was stand- 
ing, but his head was bent as if in prayer; at the 
doctor — he was gently feeling her father’s head, and 
looked like one examining some curious stone ; at 
the assistant — the man coughed and turned away; 
at her mother — ah ! little Gretel, that was the best 

[« 5 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


you could do — to kneel beside her and twine your 
warm young arms about her neck; to weep, and 
implore God to listen. 

When the mother arose, Dr. Boekman, with a 
show of trouble in his eyes, asked gruffly, " Well, 
jufvrouw, shall it be done ? ” 

"Will it pain him, Mynheer?" she asked in a 
trembling voice. 

" I cannot say. Probably not. Shall it be done ? " 

"It may cure him, you said, and, Mynheer — did 
you tell my boy that — perhaps — perhaps — ” she , 
could not finish. 

"Yes, jufvrouw , I said the patient might sink 
under the operation, but we will hope it may prove 
otherwise." He looked at his watch. The assistant 
moved impatiently toward the window. " Come, 
jufvrouw , time presses. Yes or no ? " 

Hans wound his arm about his mother. It was 
not his usual way. He even leaned his head against 
her shoulder. 

"The meester awaits an answer," he whispered. 

Dame Brinker had long been the head of her 
house in every sense. Many a time she had been 
very stern with Hans, ruling him with a strong hand 
and rejoicing in her motherly discipline ; now she 
felt so weak, so helpless. It was something to feel 
that firm embrace. There was strength even in the 
touch of that yellow hair. 

She turned to her boy imploringly. 

" Oh, Hans ! what shall I say ? " 

[216] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" Say what God tells thee, mother,” answered 
Hans, bowing his head. 

One quick, questioning prayer to heaven rose from 
the mother’s heart. The answer came. 

She turned toward Dr. Boekman. 

" It is right, Mynheer. I consent.” 

" Humph ! ” grunted the doctor, as if to say, 
"You ’ve been long enough about it.” Then he 
conferred a moment with his assistant, who listened 
with great outward deference, but was inwardly re- 
joicing at the grand joke he would have to tell his 
fellow students. He had actually seen a tear in "old 
Boekman’s” eye. 

Meanwhile Gretel looked on in trembling silence ; 
but when she saw the doctor open a leathern case 
and take out one sharp, gleaming instrument after 
another, she sprang forward. 

" Oh, mother ! the poor father meant no wrong. 
Are they going to murder him ? ” 

" I do not know, child ! ” screamed Dame Brinker, 
looking fiercely at Gretel ; " I do not know.” 

"This will not do, jufvrouw” said Dr. Boekman, 
sternly, and at the same time he cast a quick, pene- 
trating look at Hans. "You and the girl must leave 
the room. The boy may stay.” 

Dame Brinker drew herself up in an instant. Her 
eyes flashed. Her whole countenance was changed. 
She looked like one who had never wept, never felt 
a moment’s weakness. Her voice was low, but de- 
cided. " I stay with my husband, Mynheer.” 

[217] 


HANS BRINKER 

Dr. Boekman looked astonished. His orders were 
seldom disregarded in this style. For an instant his 
eye met hers. 

''You may remain, jufvrouw ," he said in an 
altered voice. 

Gretel had already disappeared. 

In one corner of the cottage was a small closet, 
where her rough, boxlike bed was fastened against 
the wall. None would think of the trembling little 
creature crouching there in the dark. 

Dr. Boekman took off his heavy coat. He filled 
an earthen basin with water and placed it near the 
bed. Then turning to Hans, he asked, "Can I de- 
pend upon you, boy ? ” 

" You can, Mynheer." 

" I believe you. Stand at the head, here ; your 
mother may sit at your right — so." And he placed 
a chair near the cot. 

" Remember, jufvrouw, there must be no cries, no 
fainting." 

Dame Brinker answered him with a look. 

He was satisfied. 

" Now, Vollenhoven." 

Oh, that case with the terrible instruments ! The 
assistant lifted them. Gretel, who had been peering 
with brimming eyes through the crack of the closet 
door, could remain silent no longer. 

She rushed frantically across the apartment, seized 
her hood, and ran from the cottage. 


[218] 



GRETEL AND HILDA 

TTT WAS recess hour. At the first stroke of the 
schoolhouse bell the canal seemed to give a 
J_L tremendous shout and grow suddenly alive with 
boys and girls. The sly thing, shining so quietly 
under the noonday sun, was a kaleidoscope at heart, 
and only needed a shake from that great clapper to 
start it into dazzling changes. 

Dozens of gayly clad children were skating in and 
out among each other, and all their pent-up merri- 
ment of the morning was relieving itself in song and 
shout and laughter. There was nothing to check the 
flow of frolic. Not a thought of schoolbooks came 
out with them into the sunshine. Latin, arithmetic, 
grammar, all were locked up for an hour in the 
dingy schoolroom. The teacher might be a noun, if 
he wished, and a proper one at that ; but they meant 
to enjoy themselves. As long as the skating was as 
perfect as this, it made no difference whether Holland 
[219] 


HANS BRINKER 


was on the north pole or the equator. And as for 
philosophy, how could they bother themselves about 
inertia and gravitation and such things, when it was 
as much as they could do to keep from getting 
knocked over in the commotion ? 

In the height of the fun one of the children called 
out, " What is that ? ” 

" What ? Where ? ” cried a dozen voices. 

"Why — don’t you see? That dark thing over 
there by the Idiot’s Cottage.” 

" I don’t see anything,” said one. 

"I do,” shouted another. "It’s a dog ! ” 

"Where’s any dog? ” put in a squeaky voice that 
we have heard before. "It’s no such thing; it’s a 
heap of rags.” 

" Pooh, Voost ! ” retorted another, gruffly. " That’s 
about as near the fact as you ever get. It ’s the 
goose-girl, Gretel, looking for rats.” 

" Well, what of it ? ” squeaked Voost. " Is n’t she 
a bundle of rags, I’d like to know ? ” 

" Ha, ha ! pretty good for you, Voost ! You ’ll get 
a medal for wit yet, if you keep on.” 

"You’d get something else if her brother Hans 
were here. I’ll warrant you would!” said a muffled- 
up little fellow with a cold in his head. 

As Hans was not there, Voost could afford to scout 
the insinuation. 

"Who cares for him, little sneezer? I’d fight a 
dozen like him, any day, and you in the bargain.” 

"You would, would you? I’d like to catch you 
[ 220 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

at it.” And by way of proving his words, the sneezer 
skated off at the top of his speed. 

Just then a general chase after three of the biggest 
boys of the school was proposed ; and friend and foe, 
frolicsome as ever, were soon united in a common 
cause. 

Only one of all that happy throng remembered 
the dark little form by the Idiot’s Cottage. Poor 
frightened Gretel ! She was not thinking of them, 
though their merry laughter floated lightly toward 
her, making her feel like one in a dream. 

How loud the moans were behind the darkened 
window ! What if those strange men were really 
killing her father ! 

The thought made her spring to her feet with a 
cry of horror. 

"Ah, no!” she sobbed, sinking upon the frozen 
mound of earth where she had been sitting, "mother 
is there, and Hans. They will care for him. But 
how pale they were ! And even Hans was crying. 

"Why did the cross old meester keep him and 
send me away ? ” she thought. " I could have clung 
to the mother and kissed her. That always makes her 
stroke my hair and speak gently, even after she has 
scolded me. How quiet it is now ! Oh, if the father 
should die, and Hans, and the mother ! what would I 
do ? ” And Gretel, shivering with cold, buried her face 
in her arms and cried as if her heart would break. 

The poor child had been taxed beyond her 
strength during the past four days. Through all she 
[221] 


HANS BRINKER 


had been her mother’s willing little handmaiden, 
soothing, helping, and cheering the half-widowed 
woman by day, and watching and praying beside 
her all the long night. She knew that something 
terrible and mysterious was taking place at this 
moment — something that had been too terrible 
and mysterious for even kind, good Hans to tell. 

Then new thoughts came. Why had not Hans 
told her ? It was a shame ! It was her father as 
well as his. She was no baby. She had once taken 
a sharp knife from the father’s hand. She had even 
drawn him away from the mother on that awful 
night when Hans, big as he was, could not help her. 
Why, then, must she be treated like one who could 
do nothing ? Oh, how very still it was ; how bitter, 
bitter cold ! If Annie Bouman had only stayed 
home instead of going to Amsterdam, it would n’t be 
so lonely. How cold her feet were growing ! Was 
it the moaning that made her feel as if she were 
floating in the air ? 

This would not do ; the mother might need her 
help at any moment. 

Rousing herself with an effort, Gretel sat upright, 
rubbing her eyes and wondering' — wondering that 
the sky was so bright and blue ; wondering at the 
stillness in the cottage ; more than all, at the laugh- 
ter rising and falling in the distance. 

Soon she sank down again, the strange medley of 
thought growing more and more confused in her 
bewildered brain. 


[ 222 ] 



HANS BRINKER 


What a strange lip the me ester had ! How the 
stork’s nest upon the roof seemed to rustle and 
whisper down to her ! How bright those knives 
were in the leathern case — brighter, perhaps, than 
the silver skates. If she had but worn her new 
jacket, she would not shiver so. The new jacket 
was pretty — the only pretty thing she had ever 
worn. God had taken care of her father so long, 
he would do it still, if those two men would but go 
away. Ah, now the meesters were on the roof ; they 
were clambering to the top ; no, it was her mother 
and Hans — or the storks ; it was so dark, who could 
tell, and the mound rocking, swinging, in that 
strange way ? How sweetly the birds were singing ! 
They must be winter birds, for the air was thick 
with icicles — not one bird, but twenty. Oh ! hear 
them, mother ; wake me, mother, for the race ; I am 
so tired with crying and crying — 

A firm hand was laid upon her shoulder. 

" Get up, little girl ! ” cried a kind voice. " This 
will not do, for you to lie here and freeze.” 

Gretel slowly raised her head. She was so sleepy 
that it seemed nothing strange to her that Hilda 
van Gleck should be leaning over her, looking with 
kind, beautiful eyes into her face. She had often 
dreamed it before. 

But she had never dreamed that Hilda was shak- 
ing her roughly, almost dragging her by main force ; 
never dreamed that she heard her saying, " Gretel, 
Gretel Brinker, you must wake ! ” 

[ 22 4 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

This was real. Gretel looked up. Still the lovely, 
delicate young lady was shaking, rubbing, fairly 
pounding her. It must be a dream. No, there was 
the cottage, and the stork’s nest, and the meester s 
coach by the canal. She could see them now quite 
plainly. Her hands were tingling, her feet throbbing ; 
Hilda was forcing her to walk. 

At last Gretel began to feel like herself again. 

" I have been asleep,” she faltered, rubbing her 
eyes with both hands and looking very much ashamed. 

"Yes, indeed! entirely too much asleep,” laughed 
Hilda, whose lips were very pale. " But you are 
well enough now. Lean upon me, Gretel. There, 
keep moving, you will soon be warm enough to go 
by the fire. Now let me take you into the cottage.” 

" Oh, no, no, no, jufvrouw ; not in there ! The 
meester is there. He sent me away.” 

Hilda was puzzled, but she wisely forbore to ask 
at present for an explanation. " Very well, Gretel ; 
try to walk faster. I saw you upon the mound some 
time ago, but I thought you were playing; that is 
right, keep moving.” 

All this time the kind-hearted girl had been 
forcing Gretel to walk up and down, supporting her 
with one arm, and with the other striving, as well as 
she could, to take off her own warm sack. 

Suddenly Gretel suspected her intention. 

" Oh, jufvrouw, jufvrouw \” she cried imploringly. 
" Please never think of such a thing as that ! Oh ! 
please keep it on. I am burning all over, jufvrouw ! 

[225] 


HANS BRINKER 


I really am burning. Not burning, exactly, but pins 
and needles pricking all over me. Oh, jufvrouw , 
don’t!” 

The poor child’s dismay was so genuine that 
Hilda hastened to reassure her. 

" Very well, Gretel, move your arms then, so. 
Why, your cheeks are as pink as roses already. I 
think the meester would let you in now ; he certainly 
would. Is your father so very ill ? ” 

"Ah, jufvrouw ,” cried Gretel, weeping afresh, 
"he is dying, I think. There are two me esters in 
with him at this moment ; and the mother has scarce 
spoken to-day. Can you hear him moan, jufvrouw } ” 
she added, with sudden terror ; " the air buzzes so 
I cannot hear. He may be dead ! Oh, I do wish I 
could hear him ! ” 

Hilda listened. The cottage was very near, but 
not a sound could be heard. 

Something told her that Gretel was right. She 
ran to the window. 

"You cannot see there, my lady,” sobbed Gretel, 
eagerly; "the mother has oiled paper hanging inside. 
But at the other one, in the south end of the cottage, 
you can look in where the paper is torn.” 

Hilda, in her anxiety, ran round past the corner 
where the low roof was fringed with its loosened 
thatch. 

A sudden thought checked her. 

"It is not right for me to peep into another’s 
house in this way,” she said to herself ; then softly 
[ 226 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

calling to Gretel she added in a whisper, "You may 
look ; perhaps he is only sleeping.” 

Gretel tried to walk briskly toward the spot, but 
her limbs were trembling. Hilda hastened to her 
support. 

"You are sick, yourself, I fear,” she said kindly. 

"No, not sick, jufvrouw , but my heart cries all the 
time now, even when my eyes are as dry as yours. 
Why, jufvrouw , your eyes are not dry ! Are you cry- 
ing for us ? Oh, jufvrouw , if God sees you ! Oh, 
I know father will get better now ! ” and the little 
creature, even while reaching to look through the tiny 
window, kissed Hilda’s hand again and again. 

The sash was badly patched and broken ; a torn 
piece of paper hung halfway down across it. Gretel’s 
face was pressed to the window. 

"Can you see anything ? ” whispered Hilda, at last. 

" Yes ; the father lies very still, his head is ban- 
daged, and all their eyes are fastened upon him. 
Oh, jufvrouw ! ” almost screamed Gretel, as she 
started back and, by a quick, dexterous movement, 
shook off her heavy wooden shoes, " I must go in to 
my mother. Will you come with me ? ” 

"Not now ; the bell is ringing. I shall come again 
soon. Good-by.” 

Gretel scarce heard the words. She remembered 
for many a day afterward the bright, pitying smile 
on Hilda’s face as she turned away. 


[227] 





X 


XXXI 

THE AWAKENING 

A ANGEL could not have entered the cottage 
more noiselessly. Gretel, not daring to look 
at anyone, slid softly to her mother’s side. 
The room was very still. She could hear the old 
doctor breathe. She could almost hear the sparks as 
they fell into the ashes on the hearth. The mother’s 
hand was very cold, but a burning spot glowed on 
her cheek, and her eyes were like a deer’s, so bright, 
so sad, so eager. 

At last there was a movement upon the bed, 
very slight, but enough to cause them all to start. 
Dr. Boekman leaned eagerly forward. 

Another movement. The large hand, so white and 
soft for a poor man’s hand, twitched, then raised 
itself steadily toward the forehead. 

It felt the bandage, not in a restless, crazy way, 
but with a questioning movement, that caused even 
[228] 


OR, THE SILVER SK'ATES 

Dr. Boekman to hold his breath. Then the eyes 
opened slowly. 

" Steady, steady ! " said a voice that sounded very 
strangely to Gretel. " Shift that mat higher, boys ! 
Now throw on the clay. The waters are rising fast ; 
no time to — ” 

Dame Brinker sprang forward like a young 
panther. 

She seized his hands and, leaning over him, cried, 
" Raff, Raff, boy, speak to me!” 

"Is it you, Meitje ? ” he asked faintly. " I have 
been asleep ; hurt, I think. Where is little Hans ? ” 

"Here I am, father!" shouted Hans, half mad 
with joy. But the doctor held him back. 

" He knows us ! ” screamed Dame Brinker. "Great 
God ! he knows us ! Gretel, Gretel, come see your 
father!" % 

In vain Dr. Boekman commanded "silence! " and 
tried to force them from the bedside. He could not 
keep them off. 

Hans and his mother laughed and cried together 
as they hung over the newly awakened man. Gretel 
made no sound, but gazed at them all with glad, 
startled eyes. Her father was speaking in a faint 
voice, " Is the baby asleep, Meitje ?” 

"The baby!" echoed Dame Brinker. "Oh, Gretel, 
that is you. And he calls Hans ' little Hans.’ Ten 
years asleep ! Oh, Mynheer ! you have saved us all. 
He has known nothing for ten years. Children, why 
don’t you thank the meesterV' 

[229] 


HANS BRINKER 

The good woman was beside herself with joy. 
Dr. Boekman said nothing, but as his eyes met hers, 
he pointed upward. She understood. So did Hans 
and Gretel. 

With one accord they knelt by the cot, side by side. 
Dame Brinker felt for her husband’s hand even while 
she was praying. Dr. Boekman’s head was bowed. 
The assistant stood by the hearth with his back 
toward them. 

" Why do you pray? ” murmured the father, look- 
ing feebly from the bed as they rose. "Is it God’s 
day?” 

It was not Sunday, but his vrouw bowed her head ; 
she could not speak. 

" Then we should have a chapter,” said Raff 
Brinker, speaking slowly and with difficulty. "I do 
not know, how it is. I am very, very weak. Mayhap 
the minister will read to us ? ” 

Gretel lifted the big Dutch Bible from its carved 
shelf. Dr. Boekman, rather dismayed* at being called 
a minister, coughed and handed the volume to his 
assistant. 

" Read,” he muttered. " These people must be 
kept quiet, or the man will die yet.” 

When the chapter was finished, Dame Brinker 
motioned mysteriously to the rest, by way of telling 
them that her husband was asleep. 

" Now, juf vrouw” said the doctor, in. a subdued 
tone, as he drew on his thick woolen mittens, "there 
must be perfect quiet. You understand. This is truly 

[ 230] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


a most remarkable case. I shall come again to-mor- 
row. Give the patient no food to-day”; and bowing 
hastily, he left the cottage, followed by his assistant. 

His grand coach was not far away. The driver 
had kept the horses moving slowly up and down by 
the canal nearly all the time the doctor had been in 
the cottage. 

Hans went out also. 

" May God bless you, Mynheer ! ” he said, blushing 
and trembling. "I can never repay you; but if — ” 

"Yes, you can,” interrupted the doctor, crossly. 
"You can use your wits when the patient wakes 
again. This clacking and sniveling is enough to kill a 
well man, let alone one lying on the edge of the grave. 
If you want your father to get well, keep ’em quiet.” 

So saying, Dr. Boekman, without another word, 
stalked off to meet his coach, leaving Hans standing 
there with eyes and mouth wide open. 

Hilda was reprimanded severely that day for re- 
turning late to school after recess and for imperfect 
recitations. 

She had remained near the cottage until she had 
heard Dame Brinker laugh, until she had heard Hans 
say, "Here I am, father!” and then she had gone 
back to her lessons. What wonder that she missed 
them ! How could she get a long string of Latin 
verbs by heart, when her heart did not care a fig 
for them, but would keep saying to itself, " Oh, I 
am so glad, I am so glad ! ” 

[ 2 3i ] 



XXXII 

BONES AND TONGUES 

B DNES are strange things. One would suppose 
that they knew nothing at all about school 
affairs, but they do. Even Jacob Poot’s bones, 
buried as they were in flesh, were sharp in the matter 
of study hours. 

Early on the morning of his return they ached 
through and through, giving Jacob a twinge at every 
stroke of the school bell, as if to say " Stop that 
clapper ! There ’s trouble in it.” After school, on 
the contrary, they were quiet and comfortable ; 
in fact, seemed to be taking a nap among their 
cushions. 

The other boys’ bones behaved in a .similar 
manner, but that is not so remarkable. Being nearer 
the daylight than Jacob’s, they might be expected to 
be more learned in the ways of the world. Master 
Ludwig’s, especially, were like beauty, only skin deep ; 
they were the most knowing bones you ever heard 
[ 2 32 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

of. Just put before him, ever so quietly, a grammar- 
book with a long lesson marked in it, and imme- 
diately the sly bone over his eyes would set up such 
an aching ! Request him to go to the garret for 
your foot stove, instantly the bones would remind 
him that he was "too tired.” Ask him to go to the 
confectioner’s, a mile away, and presto ! not a bone 
would remember that it ever had been used before. 

Bearing all this in mind, you will not wonder when 
I tell you that our five boys were among the happiest 
of the happy throng pouring forth from the school- 
house that day. 

Peter was in excellent spirits. He had heard, 
through Hilda, of Dame Brinker’s laugh and of 
Hans’s joyous words, and he needed no further proof 
that Raff Brinker was a cured man. In fact, the 
news had gone forth in every direction for miles 
around. Persons who had never before cared for 
the Brinkers, or even mentioned them, except with 
a contemptuous sneer or a shrug of pretended pity, 
now became singularly familiar with every point of 
their history. There was no end to the number of 
ridiculous stories that were flying about. 

Hilda, in the excitement of the moment, had 
stopped to exchange a word with the doctor’s coach- 
man as he stood by the horses, pommeling his chest 
and clapping his hands. Her kind heart was over- 
flowing. She could not help pausing to tell the cold, 
tired-looking man that she thought the doctor would 
be out sopn ; she even hinted to him that she 

[233] 


HANS BRINKER 


suspected, only suspected, that a wonderful cure had 
been performed — an idiot brought to his senses. 
Nay, she was sure of it ; for she had heard his 
widow laugh — -no, not his widow, of course, but his 
wife ; for the man was as much alive as anybody 
and, for all she knew, sitting up and talking like a 
lawyer. 

All this was very indiscreet. Hilda, in an im- 
penitent sort of way, felt it to be so. 

But it is always so delightful to impart pleasant 
or surprising news ! 

She went tripping along by the canal, quite re- 
solved to repeat the sin ad infinitum , and* tell nearly 
every girl and boy in the school. 

Meantime Janzoon Kolp came skating by. Of 
course, in two seconds, he was striking slippery 
attitudes and shouting saucy things to the coachman, 
who stared at him in indolent disdain. 

This, to Janzoon, was equivalent to an invitation 
to draw nearer. The coachman was jiow upon his 
box, gathering up the reins and grumbling at his 
horses. 

Janzoon accosted him. 

" I say. What ’s going on at the Idiot’s Cottage ? 
Is your boss in there ? ” 

The coachman nodded mysteriously. 

"Whew! ” whistled Janzoon, drawing closer. "Old 
Brinker dead ? ” 

The driver grew big with importance and silent in 
proportion. 


[234] 





HANS BRINKER 


" See here, old pincushion, I’d run home yonder 
and get you a chunk of gingerbread if I thought you 
could open your mouth.” 

Old pincushion was human ; long hours of wait- 
ing had made him ravenously hungry. At Janzoon’s 
hint his countenance showed signs of a collapse. 

" That ’s right, old fellow ! ” pursued his tempter. 
" Hurry up ; what news ? Old Brinker dead ? ” 

" No ; cured ! Got his wits,” said the coachman, 
shooting forth his words, one at a time, like so 
many bullets. 

Like bullets (figuratively speaking), they hit Jan- 
zoon Kolp. He jumped as if he had been shot. 

" Goede Gunst ! You don’t say so ! ” 

The man pressed his lips together and looked sig- 
nificantly toward Master Kolp’s shabby residence. 

Just then Janzoon saw a group of boys in the 
distance. Hailing them in a rowdy style, common 
to boys of his stamp all over the world, — whether 
in Africa, Japan, Amsterdam, or Paris, — he scam- 
pered toward them, forgetting coachman, ginger- 
bread, everything but the wonderful news. 

Therefore, by sundown it was well known through- 
out the neighboring country that Dr. Boekman, 
chancing to stop at the cottage, had given the idiot 
Brinker a tremendous dose of medicine as brown as 
gingerbread. It had taken six men to hold him 
while, it was poured down. The idiot had imme- 
diately sprung to his feet in full possession of all 
his faculties, knocked over the doctor, or thrashed 
[236] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


him (there was admitted to be a slight uncertainty 
as to which of these penalties was inflicted), then 
sat down and addressed him, for all the world, like 
a lawyer. After that he had turned and spoken 
beautifully to his wife and children. Dame Brinker 
had laughed herself into violent hysterics. Hans had 
said, " Here I am, father, your own dear son ! ” and 
Gretel had said, " Here I am, father, your own dear 
Gretel ! ” and the doctor had afterward been seen 
leaning back in his carriage, looking just as white 
as a corpse. 


[237 ] 



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w & 

XXXIII 

A NEW ALARM 


W HEN Dr. Boekman called the next day 
at the Brinker cottage, he could not help 
noticing the cheerful, comfortable aspect 
of the place. An atmosphere of happiness breathed 
upon him as he opened the door. Dame Brinker sat 
complacently knitting beside the bed ; her husband was 
enjoying a tranquil slumber ; and Gretel was noiselessly 
kneading rye bread on the table in the corner. 

The doctor did not remain long. He asked a few 
simple questions, appeared satisfied with the answers, 
and after feeling his patient’s pulse, said: "Ah, very 
weak yet, jufvrouw ; very weak, indeed. He must 
have nourishment. You may begin to feed the 
patient, ahem ! not too much ; but what you do give 
him, let it be strong and of the best.” 

" Black-bread we have, Mynheer, and porridge,” 
replied Dame Brinker, cheerily. " They have always 
agreed with him well.” 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

"Tut, tut!” said the doctor, frowning; "nothing 
of the kind. He must have the juice of fresh meat, 
white bread dried and toasted, good Malaga wine, 
and — ahem ! the man looks cold ; give him more 
covering, something light and warm. Where is the 
boy ? ” 

" Hans, Mynheer, has gone into Broek to look 
for work. He will be back soon. Will the me ester 
please be seated ? ” 

Whether the hard polished stool offered by Dame 
Brinker did not look particularly tempting, or whether 
the dame herself frightened him, partly because she 
was a woman, and partly because an anxious, dis- 
tressed look had suddenly appeared in her face, I 
cannot say. Certain it is that our eccentric doctor 
looked hurriedly about him, muttered something 
about " extraordinary case,” bowed, and disappeared 
before Dame Brinker had time to say another 
word. 

Strange that the visit of their good benefactor 
should have left a cloud, yet so it was. Gretel 
frowned — an anxious, childish frown — and kneaded 
the bread-dough violently without looking up. Dame 
Brinker hurried to her husband’s bedside, leaned over 
him, and fell into silent but passionate weeping. 

In a moment Hans entered. 

" Why, mother ! ” he whispered in alarm, " what 
ails thee ? Is the father worse ? ” 

She turned her quivering face toward him, making 
no attempt to conceal her distress. 

[ 2 39 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


"Yes; he is starving, perishing. The meester 
said it.” 

Hans turned pale. 

"What does this mean, mother? We must feed 
him at once. Here, Gretel, give me the porridge.” 

" Nay ! ” cried his mother, distractedly, yet with- 
out raising her voice. " It may kill him. Our poor 
fare is too heavy for him. Oh, Hans ! he will die, 
the father will die, if we use him this way. He 
must have meat, and sweet wine, and a dek-bed. 
Oh ! what shall I do, what shall I do ? ” she sobbed, 
wringing her hands. “ There ’s not a stiver in the 
house.” 

Gretel pouted ; it was the only way she could 
express sympathy just then. Her tears fell one by 
one into the dough. 

" Did the meester say he must have these things, 
mother ? ” asked Hans. 

"Yes, he did.” 

" Well, mother, don’t cry ; he shall have them. I 
shall bring meat and wine before night. Take the 
cover from my bed. I can sleep in the straw.” 

"Yes, Hans; but it is heavy, scant as it is. The 
meester said he must have something light and 
warm. He will perish. Our peat is giving out, 
Hans. The father has wasted it sorely, throwing it 
on when I was not looking, dear man.” 

" Never mind, mother,” whispered Hans, cheer- 
fully. "We can cut down the willow tree and 
burn it, if need be ; but I ’ll bring home something 
[240] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


to-night. There must be work in Amsterdam, though 
there ’s none in Broek. Never fear, mother ; the 
worst trouble of all is past. We can brave anything, 
now that the father is himself again.” 

"Ay!” sobbed Dame Brinker, hastily drying her 
eyes, " that is true indeed.” 

" Of course it is. Look at him, mother ; how 
softly he sleeps! Do you think God would let him 
starve, just after giving him back to us ? Why, 
mother, I’m as sure of getting all the father needs 
as if my pocket was bursting with gold. There, now, 
don’t fret.” And hurriedly kissing her, Hans caught 
up his skates and slipped from the cottage. 

Poor Hans ! Disappointed in his morning’s errand, 
half sickened with this new trouble, he wore a brave 
look, and tried to whistle as he tramped resolutely 
off with the firm intention of mending matters. 

Want had never before pressed as sorely upon 
the Brinker family. Their stock of peat was nearly 
exhausted, and all the flour in the cottage was in 
Gretel’s dough. They had scarcely cared to eat dur- 
ing the past few days, scarcely realized their condi- 
tion. Dame Brinker had felt so sure that she and 
the children could earn money before the worst came 
that she had given herself up to the joy of her hus- 
band’s recovery. She had not even told Hans that the 
few pieces of silver in the old mitten were quite gone. 

Hans reproached himself now that he had not 
hailed the doctor when he saw him enter his coach 
and drive rapidly away in the direction of Amsterdam. 

[^ 4 .] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Perhaps there is some mistake,” he thought. 
" The meester surely would have known that meat 
and sweet wine were not at our command. And yet 
the father looks very weak ; he certainly does. I 
must get work. If Mynheer van Holp were back 
from Rotterdam I could get plenty to do. But Mas- 
ter Peter told me to let him know if he could do 
aught to serve us. I shall go to him at once. Oh, 
if it were but summer ! ” 

All this time Hans was hastening toward the canal. 
Soon his skates were on, and he was skimming rapidly 
toward the residence of Mynheer van Holp. 

"The father must have meat and wine at once,” 
he muttered. " But how can I earn the money in 
time to buy them to-day ? There is no other way 
but to go, as I promised , to Master Peter. What 
would a gift of meat and wine be to him ? When 
the father is once fed, I can rush down to Amsterdam 
and earn the morrow’s supply.” 

Then came other thoughts — thoughts that made 
his heart thump heavily and his cheeks burn with a 
new shame. "It is begging , to say the least. Not 
one of the Brinkers has ever been a beggar. Shall 
I be the first ? Shall my poor father, just coming 
back into life, learn that his family have asked for 
charity — he, always so wise and thrifty? No!” cried 
Hans, aloud, "better a thousand times to part with 
the watch.” 

" I can at least borrow money on it in Amsterdam,” 
he thought, turning around; "that will be no disgrace. 

[242] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


I can find work at once and get it back again. Nay, 
perhaps I can even speak to the father about it." 

This last thought almost made the lad dance for 
joy. Why not, indeed, speak to the father? He 
was a rational being now. "He may wake," thought 
Hans, " quite bright and rested ; may tell us the 
watch is of no consequence ; to sell it, of course. 
Huzza! ” and Hans almost flew over the ice. 

A few moments more, and the skates were again 
swinging from his arm. He was running toward the 
cottage. 

His mother met him at the door. 

" Oh, Hans!” she cried, her face radiant with joy, 
"the young lady has been here with her maid. She 
brought everything — meat, jelly, wine, and bread, a 
whole basketful ! Then the meester sent a man from 
town with more wine and a fine bed and blankets for 
the father. Oh ! he will get well now. God bless 
them ! ” 

"God bless them!" echoed Hans, and for the first 
time that day his eyes filled with tears. 


[>43] 



THE FATHER’S RETURN 


^HAT evening Raff Brinker felt so much bet- 
ter that he insisted upon sitting up awhile on 
the rough, high-backed chair by the fire. For 
a few moments there was quite a commotion in the 
little cottage. Hans was all-important on the occa- 
sion, for his father was a heavy man and needed 
something firm to lean upon. The dame, though 
none of your fragile ladies, was in such a state of 
alarm and excitement at the bold step they were tak- 
ing in lifting him without the me ester s orders, that 
she came near pulling her husband over, even while 
she believed herself to be his main prop and support. 

" Steady, vrouw , steady!” panted Raff. " Have I 
grown old and feeble ? or is it the fever makes me 
thus helpless ? ” 

"Hear the man!” laughed Dame Brinker, "talk- 
ing like any other Christian. Why, you ’re only weak 
from the fever, Raff. Here ’s the chair, settled snug 
[ 244] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

and warm ; now sit thee down — hi-di-didy, there 
we are ! ” 

With these words Dame Brinker let her half of the 
burden settle slowly into the chair. Hans prudently 
did the same. 

Meanwhile Gretel flew about generally, bringing 
every possible thing to her mother to tuck behind the 
father’s back and spread over his knees. Then she 
twitched the carved bench under his feet and Hans 
kicked the fire to make it brighter. 

The father "was sitting up’’ at last. What wonder 
that he looked about him like one bewildered! "Little 
Hans ” had just been almost carrying him. " The 
baby ’’ was over four feet long, and was demurely 
brushing up the hearth with a bundle of willow 
wisps. Meitje, the vrouw, winsome and fair as ever, 
had gained at least fifty pounds in what seemed to 
him a few hours. She also had some new lines in 
her face that puzzled him. The only familiar things 
in the room were the pine table that he had made 
before he was married, the Bible upon the shelf, and 
the cupboard in the corner. 

Ah, Raff Brinker ! it was only natural that your 
eyes should fill with hot tears, even while looking 
at the joyful faces of your loved ones. Ten years 
dropped from a man’s life — ten years of manhood, 
of household happiness and care ; ten years of hon- 
est labor, of conscious enjoyment of sunshine and 
outdoor beauty ; ten years of grateful life ; one day 
looking forward to all this ; the next, waking to find 

[245] 


HANS BRINKER 


them passed, and a blank. What wonder the scalding 
tears dropped one by one upon your cheek ! 

Tender little Gretel ! The prayer of her life was 
answered through those tears. She loved her father 
from that moment. Hans and his mother glanced 
silently at each other when they saw her spring 
toward him and throw her arms about his neck. 

" Father, dear father,” she whispered, pressing 
her cheek close to his, " don’t cry. We are all 
here.” 

" God bless thee,” sobbed Raff, kissing her again 
and again. " I had forgotten that ! ” 

Soon he looked up again and spoke in a cheerful 
voice. " I should know her, vronw ,” he said, hold- 
ing the sweet young face between his hands and 
gazing at it as though he were watching it grow ; 
" I should know her. The same blue eyes, and the 
lips, and, ah, me! the little song she could sing 
almost before she could stand. But that was long 
ago,” he added with a sigh, still looking at her 
dreamily — "long ago; it’s all gone now.” 

"Not so, indeed ! ” cried Dame Brinker, eagerly. 
" Do you think I would let her forget it ? Gretel, 
child, sing the old song thou hast known so long.” 

Raff Brinker’s hands fell wearily and his eyes 
closed, but it was something to see the smile playing 
about his mouth as Gretel’ s voice floated about him 
like an incense. 

It was a simple air; she had never known the 
words. 


[246] 



HANS BRINKER 


With loving instinct she softened every note, until 
Raff almost fancied that his two-year-old baby was 
once more beside him. 

As soon as the song was finished, Hans, laughing 
softly, mounted a wooden stool and began to rummage 
in the cupboard. 

" Have a care, Hans,” said Dame Brinker, who, 
through all her poverty, was ever a tidy housewife ; 
" have a care ; the wine is there at your right, and 
the white bread beyond it.” 

" Never fear, mother,” answered Hans, reaching 
far back on an upper shelf; "I shall do no mischief.” 

Jumping down, he walked toward his father and 
placed an oblong block of pine wood in his hands. 
One of its ends was rounded off, and some deep 
cuts had been made on the top. 

" Do you know what it is, father ? ” asked Hans. 

Raff Brinker’s face brightened. " Indeed, I do, 
boy ! It is the boat I was making you yest — alack, 
not yesterday, but years ago.” 

" I have kept it ever since, father ; it can be 
finished when your hand grows strong again.” 

"Yes, but not for you, my lad. I must wait for 
the grandchildren. Why, you are nearly a man. 
Have you helped your mother, boy, through all 
these years ? ” 

" Ay, and bravely ! ” put in Dame Brinker. 

" Let me see,” muttered the father, looking in a 
puzzled way at them all ; " how long is it since the 
[248] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


night when the waters were coming in ? ’T is the 
last I remember.” 

"We have told thee true, Raff. It was ten years 
last Pinkster week.” 

"Ten years — and I fell then, you say. Has the 
fever been on me ever since?” 

Dame Brinker scarce knew how to reply. Should 
she tell him all ? Tell him that he had been an idiot, 
almost a lunatic ? The doctor had charged her on 
no account to worry or excite his patient. 

Hans and Gretel looked astonished when the 
answer came. 

" Like enough, Raff,” she said, nodding her head 
and raising her eyebrows. " When a heavy man like 
thee falls on his head, it ’s hard to say what will come. 
But thou ’rt well now, Raff. Thank the good Lord ! ” 

The newly awakened man bowed his head. 

"Ay, well enough, mine vrouw ,” he said, after a 
moment’s silence ; " but my brain turns, somehow, 
like a spinning-wheel. It will not be right till I 
get on the dikes again. When shall I be at work, 
think you ? ” 

"Hear the man ! ” cried Dame Brinker, delighted, 
yet frightened too, for that matter. "We must get 
him on the bed, Hans. Work, indeed ! ” 

They tried to raise him from the chair, but he 
was not ready yet. 

" Be off with ye ! ” he said, with something like his 
old smile (Gretel had never seen it before). " Does 
want to be lifted about like a log? I tell 

[249] 


a man 


HANS BRINKER 

you, before three suns I shall be on the dikes 
again. Ah ! there ’ll be some stout fellows to greet 
me. Jan Kamphuisen and young Hoogsvliet. They 
have been good friends to thee, Hans, I ’ll warrant.” 

Hans looked at his mother. Young Hoogsvliet 
had been dead five years. Jan Kamphuisen was in 
the jail at Amsterdam. 

" Ay, they ’d have done their share, no doubt,” said 
Dame Brinker, parrying the inquiry, " had we asked 
them. But, what with working and studying, Hans 
has been busy enough without seeking comrades.” 

" Working and studying,” echoed Raff, in a musing 
tone. " Can the youngsters read and cipher, Meitje ? ” 
"You should hear them ! ” she answered proudly. 
" They can run through a book while I mop the floor. 
Hans, there, is as happy over a page of big words as 
a rabbit in a cabbage patch ; as for ciphering — ” 

" Here, lad, help a bit,” interrupted Raff Brinker; 
" I must get me on the bed again.” 


[ 2 5 ° ] 



THE THOUSAND GUILDERS 



'ONE seeing the humble supper eaten in 
the Brinker cottage that night would have 
dreamed of the dainty fare hidden away 
near by. Hans and Gretel looked rather wistfully 
toward the cupboard as they drank their cupful of 
water and ate their scanty share of black-bread, but 
even in thought they did not rob their father. 

" He relished his supper well,” said Dame Brinker, 
nodding sidewise toward the bed, "and fell asleep the 
next moment. Ah, the dear man will be feeble for 
many a day. He wanted sore to sit up again ; but 
while I made show of humoring him and getting 
ready, he dropped off. Remember that, my girl, 
when you have a man of your own (and many a day 
may it be before that comes to pass) * — remember you 
can never rule by differing ; * humble wife is hus- 
band’s boss.’ Tut, tut ! never swallow such a mouth- 
ful as that again, child ; why, I could make a meal 


HANS BRINKER 


off of two such pieces. What ’s in thee, Hans ? One 
would think there were cobwebs on the wall.” 

" Oh, no, mother! I was only thinking — ” 

" Thinking about what ? Ah, no use asking,” she 
added in a changed tone ; ”1 was thinking of the 
same awhile ago. Well, well, it ’s no blame if we 
did look to hear something by this time about the 
thousand guilders ; but not a word — no, it ’s plain 
enough he knows naught about them.” 

Hans looked up anxiously, dreading lest his mother 
should grow agitated as usual, when speaking of 
the lost money ; but she was silently nibbling her 
bread and looking with a doleful stare toward the 
window. 

" Thousand guilders ! ” echoed a faint voice from 
the bed. "Ah, I am sure they have been of good 
use to you, vrouw , through the long years while 
your man was idle.” 

The poor woman started up. These words quite 
destroyed the hope that of late had been glowing 
within her. 

"Are you awake, Raff?” she faltered. 

"Yes, Meitje ; and I feel much better. Our 
money was well saved, vrouw , I was saying. Did 
it last through all these ten years ? ” 

''I — I — have not got it, Raff, I — ” She was 
going to tell him the whole truth, when Hans lifted 
his finger warningly and whispered, " Remember 
what the meester told us ; the father must not be 
worried.” 


[252] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

"'Speak to him, child,” she answered, trembling. 

Hans hurried to the bedside. 

"I am glad you are feeling better,” he said, lean- 
ing over his father. "Another day will see you quite 
strong again.” 

"Ay, like enough. How long did the money last, 
Hans ? I could not hear your mother. What did 
she say ? ” 

" I said, Raff,” stammered Dame Brinker, in great 
distress, " that it was all gone.” 

" Well, well, wife, do not fret at that ; one thou- 
sand guilders is not so very much for ten years, and 
with children to bring up ; but it has helped to make 
you. all comfortable. Have you had much sickness to 
bear ? ” 

" N — no,” sobbed Dame Brinker, lifting her apron 
to her eyes. 

"Tut — tut, woman, why do you cry?” said Ralf, 
kindly. "We will soon fill another pouch when I 
am on my feet again. Lucky I told you all about it 
before I fell.” 

" Told me what, man ? ” 

" Why, that I buried the money. In my dream 
just now it seemed I had never said aught about it.” 

Dame Brinker started forward. Hans caught her 
arm. 

" Hist, mother ! ” he whispered, hastily leading 
her away; "we must be very careful.” Then, while 
she stood with clasped hands, waiting in breath- 
less anxiety, he once more approached the cot. 

[ 2 53 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Trembling with eagerness, he said : "That was a 
troublesome dream. Do you remember when you 
buried the money, father ? ” 

"Yes, my boy. It was before daylight on the 
same day I was hurt. Jan Kamphuisen said some- 
thing the sundown before that made me distrust his 
honesty. He was the only one living besides mother 
who knew we had saved a thousand guilders, so I 
rose up that night and buried the money. Block- 
head that I was ever to suspect an old friend ! ” 

" I ’ll be bound, father," pursued Hans, in a 
laughing voice, motioning to his mother and Gretel 
to remain quiet, "that you’ve forgotten where you 
buried it." 

" Ha, ha ! not I, indeed. But good night, my son, 
I can sleep again." 

Hans would have walked away, but his mother’s 
gestures were not to be disobeyed ; so he said gently : 
" Good night, father ! Where did you say you buried 
the money ? I was only a little one then." 

" Close by the willow sapling behind the cottage," 
said Raff Brinker, drowsily. 

" Ah, yes ! North side of the tree, was n’t it, 
father ? ” 

" No, the south side. Ah, you know the spot well 
enough, you rogue. Like enough you were there 
when your mother lifted it. Now, son, easy; shift 
this pillow, so. Good night ! " 

" Good night, father! " said Hans, ready to dance 
for joy. 

[ 2 S4] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

The moon rose very late that night, shining in, 
full and clear, at the little window ; but its beams 
did not disturb Raff Brinker. He slept soundly ; so 
did Gretel. As for Hans and his mother, they had 
something else to do. 

After making a few hurried preparations, they 
stole forth with bright, expectant faces, bearing a 
broken spade and a rusty implement that had done 
many a day’s service when Raff was a hale worker 
on the dikes. 

It was so light out of doors they could see the 
willow tree distinctly. The frozen ground was hard 
as stone, but Hans and his mother were resolute. 
Their only dread was that they might disturb the 
sleepers in the cottage. 

"This ysbreeker is just the thing, mother,” said 
Hans, striking many a vigorous blow ; " but the 
ground has set so firm, it ’ll be a fair match 
for it.” 

" Never fear, Hans,” she answered, watching him 
eagerly. " Here, let me try awhile.” 

They soon succeeded in making an impression — 
one opening, and the rest was not so difficult. 

Still they worked on, taking turns and whisper- 
ing cheerily to one another. Now and then Dame 
Brinker stepped noiselessly over the threshold and 
listened, to be certain that her husband slept. 

" What grand news it will be for him ! ” she said, 
laughing, " when he is strong enough to bear it. How 
I should like to put the pouch and the stocking, just as 

[ 2 55 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


we find them, all full of money, near him this blessed 
night, for the dear man to see when he wakens ! ” 
"We must get them first, mother,” panted Hans, 
still tugging away at his work. 

" There ’s no doubt of that. They can’t slip away 
from us now,” she answered, shivering with cold and 
excitement as she crouched beside the opening. 
" Like enough we ’ll find them stowed in the old 
earthen pot I lost long ago.” 

By this time Hans too began to tremble, but not 
with cold. He had penetrated a foot deep for quite 
a space on the south side of the tree. At any 
moment they might come upon the treasure. 

Meantime the stars winked and blinked at each 
other as if to say, " Queer country, this Holland ! 
How much we do see, to be sure ! ” 

" Strange that the dear father should have put it 
down so woeful deep,” said Dame Brinker, in a 
rather provoked tone. “ Ah, the ground was soft 
enough then, I warrant. How wise of him to mis- 
trust Jan Kamphuisen, and Jan in full credit at the 
time ! Little I thought that handsome fellow with 
his gay ways would ever go to jail ! Now, Hans, 
let me take a turn. It ’s lighter work, d’ ye see, the 
deeper we go? I’d be loath to kill the tree, Hans; 
will we harm it, think you ? ” 

" I cannot say,” he answered gravely. 

Hour after hour mother and son worked on. The 
hole grew larger and deeper. Clouds began to 
gather in the sky, throwing elfish shadows as they 

[256] 


QR, THE SILVER SKATES 

passed. Not until moon and stars faded away and 
streaks of daylight began to appear did Meitje 
Brinker and Hans look hopelessly into each other’s 
face. 

They had searched thoroughly, desperately, all 
around the tree — south, north, east, west. The hid- 
den money was not there ! 


[257] 



XXXVI 



A 


GLIMPSES 


NNIE BOUMAN had a healthy distaste for 


Janzoon Kolp. Janzoon Kolp, in his own 
rough way, adored Annie. Annie declared 
she could not, " to save her life,” say one civil word 
to that odious boy. Janzoon believed her to be the 
sweetest, sauciest creature in the world. Annie 
laughed among her playmates at the comical flapping 
of Janzoon’s tattered and dingy jacket ; he sighed 
in solitude over the floating grace of her jaunty blue 
petticoat. She thanked her stars that her brothers 
were not like the Kolps, and he growled at his sister 
because she was not like the Boumans. They seemed 
to exchange natures whenever they met. His pres- 
ence made her harsh and unfeeling, and the very sight 
of her made him gentle as a lamb. Of course they 
were thrown together very often. It is thus that in 
some mysterious way we are convinced of error and 
cured of prejudice. In this case, however, the 

[258] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


scheme failed. Annie detested Janzoon more and 
more at each encounter, and Janzoon liked her better 
and better every day. 

"He killed a stork, the wicked old wretch ! ” she 
would say to herself. 

" She knows I am strong and fearless," thought 
Janzoon. 

"How red afrd freckled and ugly he is,” was 
Annie’s secret comment when she looked at him. 

"How she stares and stares ! " thought Janzoon. 
" Well, I am a fine, weather-beaten fellow, anyway." 

" Janzoon Kolp, you impudent boy, go right away 
from me ! ” Annie often said. " I don’t want any of 
your company." 

"Ha, ha!" laughed Janzoon to himself. "Girls 
never say what they mean. I ’ll skate with her every 
chance I can get." 

And so it came to pass that the pretty maid would 
not look up that morning, when, skating home- 
ward from Amsterdam, she became convinced that 
a great, burly boy was coming down the canal 
toward her. 

" Humph ! if I look at him," thought Annie, 
"I’ll — " 

" Good-morrow, Annie Bouman ! " said a pleasant 
voice. 

How a smile brightens a girl’s face ! 

" Good-morrow, Master Hans ! I am right glad 
to meet you." 

How a smile brightens a boy’s face ! 

[259] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Good-morrow again, Annie ! There has been a 
great change at our house since you left.” 

"How so ? ” she exclaimed, opening her eyes very 
wide. 

Hans, who had been in a great hurry and rather 
moody, grew talkative and quite at leisure in Annie’s 
sunshine. Turning about and skating slowly with 
her toward Broek, he told the good news of his 
father. Annie was so true a friend that he told her 
even of their present distress — of how money was 
needed, and how everything depended upon his ob- 
taining work, and he could find nothing to do in 
the neighborhood. 

All this was not said as a complaint, but just 
because she was looking at him and really wished 
to know. He could not speak of last night’s bitter 
disappointment, for that secret was not wholly his 
own. 

" Good-by, Annie ! ” he said at last. " The morn- 
ing is going fast, and I must haste to Amsterdam 
and sell these skates. Mother must have money 
at once. Before nightfall I shall certainly find a 
job somewhere.” 

"Sell your new skates, Hans!” cried Annie — 
"you, the best skater around Broek ! Why, the race 
is coming off in five days ! ” 

" I know it,” he answered resolutely. " Good-by ! 
I shall skate home again on the old wooden ones.” 

Such a bright glance! so different from Janzoon’s 
ugly grin ! And Hans was off like an arrow. 

[ 2 6 ° ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" Hans, come back ! ” she called. 

Her voice changed the arrow into a top. Spin- 
ning around he darted, in one long, leaning sweep, 
toward her. 

" Then you really are going to sell your new skates 
if you can find a customer.” 

" Of course I am,” he replied, looking up with a 
surprised smile. 

" Well, Hans, if you are going to sell your skates,” 
said Annie, somewhat confused — " I mean if you — 
well, I know somebody who would like to buy them ; 
that’s all.” 

"Not Janzoon Kolp ? ” asked Hans, flushing. 

" Oh, no ! ” she pouted. " He is not one of my 
friends.” 

"But you know him,” persisted Hans. 

Annie laughed. "Yes, I know him ; and it ’s all 
the worse for him that I do. Now, please, Hans, 
don’t ever talk any more to me about Janzoon. I 
hate him ! ” 

" Hate him ? You hate anyone, Annie ? ” 

She shook her head saucily. " Yes ; and I ’ll hate 
you too if you persist in calling him one of my 
friends. You boys may like him, because he caught 
the greased goose at the kermis last summer and 
climbed the pole with his great ugly body tied up in 
a sack ; but I don’t care for such things. I ’ve dis- 
liked him ever since I saw him try to push his little 
sister out of the merry-go-round at Amsterdam ; and 
it ’s no secret up our way who killed the stork on 

[ 261 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

your mother’s roof. But we mustn’t talk about such 
a bad, wicked fellow. Really, Hans, I know some- 
body who would be glad to buy your skates. You 
won’t get half a price for them in Amsterdam. 
Please give them to me. I ’ll take you the money 
this very afternoon.” 

If Annie was charming even when she said 
"hate,” there was no withstanding her when she 
said " please ” ; at least, Hans found it to be so. 

"Annie,” he said, taking off the skates and rub- 
bing them carefully with a snarl of twine before 
handing them to her, "I am sorry to be so partic- 
ular ; but if your friend should not want them will 
you bring them back to me to-day ? I must buy peat 
and meal for the mother early to-morrow morning.” 

"My friend will want them,” laughed Annie, nod- 
ding gayly and skating off at the top of her speed. 

As Hans drew forth the wooden " runners ” from 
his capacious pockets and fastened them on as best 
he could, he did not hear Annie murmur : "I wish 
I had not been so rude. Poor brave Hans ! what a 
noble boy he is ! ” And as Annie skated homeward, 
filled with pleasant thoughts, she did not hear Hans 
say : " I grumbled like a bear. But bless her ! some 
girls are like angels ! ” 

Perhaps it was all for the best. One cannot be 
expected to know everything that is going on in the 
world. 


[ 262 ] 



XXXVII 


LOOKING FOR WORK 



UXURIES unfit us for returning to hardships 


easily endured before. The wooden runners 


J-S — / squeaked more than ever. It was as much 
as Hans could do to get on with the clumsy old 
things ; still he did not regret that he had parted 
with his beautiful skates, but resolutely pushed back 
the boyish trouble that he had not been able to 
keep them just a little longer, at least, until after 
the race. 

" Mother surely will not be angry with me,” he 
thought, "for selling them without her leave. She 
has had care enough already. It will be full time to 
speak of it when I take home the money.” 

Hans went up and down the streets of Amsterdam 
all that day, looking for work. He succeeded in 
earning a few stivers by assisting a man who was 
driving a train of loaded mules into the city, but he 
could not secure steady employment anywhere. He 


[263] 



HANS BRINKER 

would have been glad to obtain a situation as porter 
or errand boy ; but though he passed, on his way, 
many a loitering, shuffling urchin, laden with bun- 
dles, there was no place for him. Some shopkeepers 
had just supplied themselves ; others needed a trim- 
mer, more lightly built fellow (they meant better 
dressed, but did not choose to say so) ; others told 
him to call again in a month or two, when the canals 
would probably be broken up ; and many shook their 
heads at him without saying a word. 

At the factories he met with no better luck. It 
seemed to him that in those great buildings, — turn- 
ing out respectively such tremendous quantities of 
woolen, cotton, and linen stuffs, such world-renowned 
dyes and paints, such precious diamonds cut from 
the rough, such supplies of meal, of bricks, of glass 
and china, — that in at least one of these a strong- 
armed boy, able and eager to work, could find some- 
thing to do. But no ; nearly the same answer met 
him everywhere : "No need of more hands just now. 
If he had called before Nicholas Day they might 
have given him a job, as they were hurried then ; 
but at present they had more boys than they needed.” 
Hans wished they could see just for a moment his 
mother and Gretel. He did not know how the 
anxiety of both looked out from his eyes, and how, 
more than once, the gruffest denials were uttered 
with an uncomfortable consciousness that the lad 
ought not to be turned away. Certain fathers, when 
they went home that night, spoke more kindly than 
[264] 




HANS BRINKER 

usual to their own youngsters, from memory of a 
frank young face saddened at their words ; and be- 
fore morning one man actually resolved that if the 
Broek boy came in again he would instruct his head 
man Blankert to set him at something. 

But Hans knew nothing of all this. Toward 
sundown he started on his return to Broek, un- 
certain whether the strange, choking sensation in 
his throat arose from discouragement or resolution. 
There was certainly one more chance. Mynheer 
van Holp might have returned by this time. Master 
Peter, it was reported, had gone to Haarlem the 
night before to attend to something connected 
with the great skating race. Still Hans would go 
and try. 

Fortunately Peter had returned early that morning. 
He was at home when Hans reached there, and was 
just about starting for the Brinker cottage. 

" Ah, Hans ! ” he cried as the weary boy ap- 
proached the door. "You are the very one I wished 
to see. Come in and warm yourself.” 

After tugging at his well-worn hat, which always 
zvould stick to his head when he was embarrassed, 
Hans knelt down — not by way of making a new 
style of oriental salute nor worship the goddess of 
cleanliness who presided there, but because his heavy 
shoes would have filled the soul of a Broek house- 
wife with horror. When their owner stepped softly 
into the house, they were left outside to act as senti- 
nels until his return. 


[266] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

Hans left the Van Holp mansion with a lightened 
heart. Peter had brought word from Haarlem that 
young Brinker was to commence working upon the 
summerhouse doors immediately. There was a com- 
fortable workshop on the place, and it was to be 
at his service until the carving was done. 

Peter did not tell Hans that he had skated all the 
way to Haarlem for the purpose of arranging this 
plan with Mynheer van Holp. It was enough for 
him to see the glad, eager look rise on young 
Brinker’s face. 

" I think I can do it,” said Hans, " though I 
have never learned the trade.” 

" I am sure you can,” responded Peter, heartily. 
"You will find every tool you require in the work- 
shop. It is nearly hidden yonder by that wall of 
twigs. In summer, when the hedge is green, one 
cannot see the shop from here at all. How is your 
father to-day ? ” 

" Better, Mynheer ; he improves every hour.” 

"It is the most astonishing thing I ever heard of. 
That gruff old doctor is a great fellow, after all.” 

" Ah, Mynheer ! ” said Hans, warmly, "he is 
more than great ; he is good. But for the meesters 
kind heart and great skill my poor father would yet 
be in the dark. I think, Mynheer,” he added with 
kindling eyes, " surgery is the very noblest science 
in the world.” 

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Very noble it may 
be, but not quite to my taste. This Dr. Boekman 
[267] 


HANS BRINKER 


certainly has skill. As for his heart — defend me 
from such hearts as his ! 

"Why do you say so, Mynheer? ” asked Hans. 

Just then a lady slowly entered from an adjoining 
apartment. It was Mevrouw van Holp, arrayed in 
the grandest of caps and the longest of satin aprons, 
ruffled with lace. She nodded placidly as Hans 
stepped back from the fire, bowing as well as he 
knew how. 

Peter at once drew a high-backed oaken chair 
toward the fire, and the lady seated herself. There 
was a block of cork on each side of the chimney 
place. One of these he placed under his mother’s feet. 

Hans turned to go. 

" Wait a moment, if you please, young man,” 
said the lady. " I accidentally overheard you and my 
son speaking, I think, of my friend, Dr. Boekman. 
You are right, young man. Dr. Boekman has a very 
kind heart. You perceive, Peter, we may be quite 
mistaken in judging a person solely by their manners, 
though a courteous deportment is by no means to 
be despised.” 

"I intended no disrespect, mother,” said Peter; 
" but surely one has no right to go growling and 
snarling through the world, as they say he does.” 

They say.’ Ah, Peter ! ' they ’ means everybody 
or nobody. Surgeon Boekman has had a great 
sorrow. Many years ago he lost his only child, under 
very painful circumstances — a fine lad, except that 
he was a thought too hasty and high-spirited. Before 
[ 2 68 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

then Gerard Boekman was one of the most agreeable 
gentlemen I ever knew.” 

So saying, Mevrouw van Holp, looking kindly 
upon the two boys, arose and left the room with the 
same dignity with which she had entered. 

Peter, only half convinced, muttered something 
about “ the sin of allowing sorrow to turn all one’s 
honey into gall,” as he conducted his visitor to the 
narrow side door. Before they parted he advised 
Hans to keep himself in good skating order ; " for,” 
he added, " now that your father is all right, you will 
be in fine spirits for the race. That will be the 
prettiest skating show ever seen in this part of the 
world. Everybody is talking of it; you are to try 
for the prize, remember.” 

" I shall not be in the race, Mynheer,” said Hans, 
looking down. 

" Not be in the race ! Why not, indeed ? ” And 
immediately Peter’s thoughts swept on a full tide of 
suspicion toward Carl Schummel. 

" Because I cannot, Mynheer,” answered Hans, as 
he bent to slip his feet into his big shoes. 

Something in the boy’s manner warned Peter that 
it would be no kindness to press the matter further. 
He bade Hans good-by and stood thoughtfully watch- 
ing him as he walked away. 

In a minute Peter called out, '■ Hans Brinker ! ” 

" Yes, Mynheer.” 

" I ’ll take back all I said about Dr. Boekman.” 

" Yes, Mynheer.” 


[269] 


HANS BRINKER 


Both were laughing. But Peter’s smile changed 
to a look of puzzled surprise when he saw Hans 
kneel down by the canal and put on the wooden 
skates. 

"Very queer!” muttered Peter, shaking his head 
as he turned to go into the house. " Why in the 
world don’t the boy wear his new ones ? ” 


[270] 



XXXVIII 


THE FAIRY GODMOTHER 


\r~] | ^IHE sun had gone down quite out of sight 
when our hero, with a happy heart, but some- 
thing like a sneer on his countenance as he 
jerked off the wooden "runners,” trudged hopefully 
toward the tiny hutlike building, known of old as 
the " Idiot’s Cottage.” 

Duller eyes than his would have discerned two 
slight figures moving near the doorway. 

That gray, well-patched jacket and the dull blue 
skirt covered with an apron of still duller blue, that 
faded, close-fitting cap, and those quick little feet 
in their great boatlike shoes — they were Gretel’s, of 
course. He would have known them anywhere. 

That bright, coquettish red jacket, with its pretty 
skirt bordered with black, that graceful cap bobbing 
over the gold earrings, that dainty apron, and those 
snug leather shoes that seemed to have grown with 
the feet — why, if the pope of Rome had sent them 

[271] 


HANS BR1NKER 


to him by express, Hans could have sworn they 
were Annie’s. 

The two girls were slowly pacing up and down in 
front of the cottage. Their arms were intwined, of 
course, and their heads were nodding and shaking 
as emphatically as if all the affairs of the kingdom 
were under discussion. 

With a joyous shout Hans hastened toward them. 

" Huzza, girls, I’ve found work ! ” 

This brought his mother to the cottage door. 

She too had pleasant tidings. The father was still 
improving. He had been sitting up nearly all day, 
and was now sleeping, as Dame Brinker declared, 
"just as quiet as a lamb." 

"It is my turn now, Hans," said Annie, drawing 
him aside, after he had told his mother the good 
word from Mynheer van Holp. " Your skates are 
sold and here ’s the money." 

" Seven guilders!" cried Hans, counting the pieces 
in astonishment; "why, that is three times as much 
as I paid for them." 

" I cannot help that," said Annie. " If the buyer 
knew no better, it is not our fault." 

Hans looked up quickly. 

" Oh, Annie ! " 

" Oh, Hans ! " she mimicked, pursing her lips and 
trying to look desperately wicked and unprincipled. 

" Now, Annie, I know you would never mean 
that! You must return some of this money." 

" But I’ll not do any such thing," insisted Annie. 

[272] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


"They’re sold, and that’s an end of it.” Then, 
seeing that he looked really pained, she added in a 
lower tone, "Will you believe me, Hans, when I say 
that there has been no mistake, that the person 
who bought your skates insisted upon paying seven 
guilders for them ? ” 

"I will,” he answered; and the light from his 
clear blue eyes seemed to settle and sparkle under 
Annie’s lashes. 

Dame Brinker was delighted at the sight of so 
much silver; but when she learned that Hans had 
parted with his treasures to obtain it, she sighed as 
she exclaimed, "Bless thee, child! that will be a 
sore loss for thee!” 

" Here, mother,” said the boy, plunging his hands 
far into his pocket ; " here is more ; we shall be rich 
if we keep on.” 

"Ay, indeed,” she answered, eagerly reaching forth 
her hand. Then lowering her voice, added, "We 
would be rich but for that Jan Kamphuisen. He was 
at the willow tree years ago, Hans, depend upon it ! ” 

" Indeed, it seems likely,” sighed Hans. " Well, 
mother, we must give up the money bravely. It is 
certainly gone ; the father has told us all he knows. 
Let us think no more about it.” 

"That’s easy saying, Hans. I shall try; but it’s 
hard, and my poor man wanting so many comforts. 
Bless me ! how girls fly about ! They were here but 
this instant. Where did they run to ? ” 

"They slipped behind the cottage,” said Hans, 

[273] 


HANS BRINKER 


"like enough to hold from us. Hist! I’ll catch 
them for you ! They both can move quicker and 
softer than yonder rabbit, but I ’ll give them a good 
start first." 

" Why, there is a rabbit, sure enough. Hold, 
Hans, the poor thing must have been in sore need 
to venture from its burrow this bitter weather. I ’ll 
get a few crumbs for it within." 

So saying, the good woman bustled into the cot- 
tage. She soon came out again ; but Hans had forgot- 
ten to wait, and the rabbit, after taking a cool survey 
of the premises, had scampered off to unknown quar- 
ters. Turning the corner of the cottage, Dame Brinker 
came upon the children. Hans and Gretel were stand- 
ing before Annie, who was seated carelessly upon a 
stump. 

" That is as good as a picture ! " cried Dame 
Brinker, halting in admiration of the group. "Many 
a painting have I seen at the grand house at Heidel- 
berg not a whit prettier. My two are rough chubs, 
Annie ; but you look like a fairy." 

"Do I ? ’’ laughed Annie, sparkling with anima- 
tion. "Well then, Gretel and Hans, imagine I’m 
your godmother, just paying you a visit. Now, I ’ll 
grant you each a wish. What will you have, Master 
Hans ? " 

A shade of earnestness passed over Annie’s face as 
she looked up at him ; perhaps it was because she 
wished from the depths of her heart that for once 
she could have a fairy’s power. 

[ 2 74 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


Something whispered to Hans that for the moment 
she was more than mortal. 

" I wish,” said he, solemnly, " I could find some- 
thing I was searching for last night.” 

Gretel laughed merrily. Dame Brinker moaned, 
" Shame on you, Hans ! ” and passed wearily into 
the cottage. 

The fairy godmother sprang up and stamped her 
foot three times. 

“ Thou shalt have thy wish,” said she, "let them 
say what they will.” Then with playful solemnity she 
put her hand into her apron pocket and drew forth a 
large glass bead. " Bury this,” said she, giving it to 
Hans, " where I have stamped, and ere moonrise 
thy wish shall be granted.” 

Gretel laughed more merrily than ever. 

The godmother pretended great displeasure. 

" Naughty child ! ” said she, scowling terribly. " In 
punishment for laughing at a fairy, thy wish shall not 
be granted.” 

" Ha ! ” cried Gretel, in high glee. " Better wait 
till you ’re asked, godmother. I have n’t made any 
wish ! ” 

Annie acted her part well. Never smiling through 
all their merry laughter, she stalked away, the em- 
bodiment of offended dignity. 

" Good night, fairy!” they cried again and again. 

" Good night, mortals ! ” she called out at last as 
she sprang over a frozen ditch and ran toward her 
home. 


[275] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Oh ! isn’t she — just like flowers, so sweet and 
lovely! ” cried Gretel, looking after her in great ad- 
miration. "And to think how many days she stays 
in that dark room with her grandmother. See ! she 
has stopped. Why, brother Hans ! what is the mat- 
ter ? What are you going to do ? ” 

"Wait and see!” answered Hans, as he plunged 
into the cottage, and came out again, all in an in- 
stant, bearing the spade and ysbreeker in his hands. 
"Call Annie ! I’m going to bury my magic bead !” 

Raff Brinker still slept soundly. His wife took a 
small block of peat from her nearly exhausted store 
and put it upon the embers. Then opening the door, 
she called gently, " Come in, children ! ” 

" Mother, mother ! see here ! ” shouted Hans. 

" Holy St. Bavon ! ” exclaimed the dame, springing 
over the doorstep. " What ails the boy ? ” 

" Come quick, mother,” he cried in great excite- 
ment, working with all his might, and driving in the 
ysbreeker at each word. " Don’t you see ? This is 
the spot — right here on the south side of the stump. 
Why didn’t we think of it last night? The stump 
is the old willow tree — the one you cut down last 
spring because it shaded the potatoes. That little 
tree wasn’t here when father — Huzza!” 

Dame Brinker could not speak. She dropped on 
her knees beside Hans just in time to see him drag 
forth — the old stone pot ! 

He thrust in his hand and took out — a piece of 
[276] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 




brick, then another, then another, then the stocking 
and the pouch, black and moldy, but filled with the 
long-lost treasure. 

Such a time ! Such laughing ! such crying ! such 
counting, after they went into the cottage. It was a 
wonder that Raff did not waken. His dreams were 
pleasant, however, for he smiled in his sleep. 

Dame Brinker and her children had a fine supper, 
I can assure you. No need of saving the delicacies 
now. 

" We ’ll get father some nice fresh things to- 
morrow,” said the dame, as she brought forth cold 
meat, wine, bread, and jelly, and placed them on the 
clean pine table. " Sit by, children, sit by.” 

That night Annie fell asleep, wondering whether 
it was a knife Hans had lost, and thinking how funny 
it would be if he should find it, after all. 

Hans had scarce closed his eyes before he found 
himself trudging through a thicket — pots of gold were 
lying all around, and watches and skates and glitter- 
ing beads were swinging from every branch. 

Strange to say each tree, as he approached it, 
changed into a stump ; and on the stump sat the 
prettiest fairy imaginable, clad in a scarlet jacket 
and blue petticoat. 


[277] 



THE MYSTERIOUS WATCH 

S OMETHING else than the missing guilders 
. was brought to light on the day of the fairy 
' godmother’s visit. This was the story of the 
watch, that for ten long years had been so jealously 
guarded by Raff’s faithful vrouw. Through many an 
hour of sore temptation she had dreaded almost to 
look upon it, lest she might be tempted to disobey 
her husband’s request. It had been hard to see her 
children hungry, and to know that the watch, if sold, 
would enable the roses to bloom in their cheeks again. 
"But nay,’’ she would exclaim, "Meitje Brinker is not 
one to forget her man’s last bidding, come what may.’’ 

"Take good care of this, mine vrouw” he had 
said as he handed it to her; that was all. No ex- 
planation followed, for the words were scarcely 
spoken when one of his fellow workmen rushed into 
the cottage, crying: "Come, man! the waters are 
rising ! You ’re wanted on the dikes.” 

[278] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 




Raff had started at once ; and that, as Dame 
Brinker has already told you, was the last she saw 
of him in his right mind. 

On the day when Hans was in Amsterdam, look- 
ing for work, and Gretel, after performing her 
household labors, was wandering about in search of 
chips, twigs, anything that could be burned, Dame 
Brinker, with suppressed excitement, had laid the 
watch in her husband’s hand. 

" It was n’t in reason,” as she afterwards said to 
Hans, " to wait any longer, when a word from the 
father would settle all. No woman living but would 
want to know how he came by that watch.” Raff 
Brinker turned the bright, polished thing over and 
over in his hand ; then he examined the bit of 
smoothly ironed black ribbon fastened to it ; he 
seemed hardly to recognize it. At last he said: "Ah, 
I remember this ! Why, you ’ve been rubbing it, 
vronw , till it shines like a new guilder.” 

"Ay,” said Dame Brinker, nodding her head 
complacently. 

Raff looked at it again. " Poor boy ! ” he mur- 
mured, then fell into a brown study. 

This was too much for the dame. " Poor boy ! ” 
she echoed somewhat tartly. "What do you think 
I’m standing here for, Raff Brinker, and my spin- 
ning waiting, if not to hear more than that ? ” 

" I told ye all long since,” said Raff, positively, as 
he looked up in surprise. 

" Indeed, and you never did ! ” retorted the vrouw . 

[ 279] 


HANS BRINKER 


"Well, if not, since it’s no affair of ours, we ’ll 
say no more about it," said Raff, shaking his head 
sadly. " Like enough, while I ’ve been dead on the 
earth, all this time, the poor boy ’s died and been in 
heaven. He looked near enough to it, poor lad ! " 

"Raff Brinker! If you ’re going to treat me this 
way, and I nursing you and bearing with you since 
I was twenty-two years old, it ’s a shame, ay, and a 
disgrace ! ’’ cried the vrouw , growing quite red and 
scant of breath. 

Raff’s voice was feeble yet. " Treat you what 
way, Meitje ? ” 

" What way ? ’’ said Dame Brinker, mimicking his 
voice and manner; "what way? Why, just as every 
woman in the world is treated after she has stood by 
a man through the worst, like a — ’’ 

" Meitje ! ’’ 

Raff was leaning forward with outstretched arms. 
His eyes were full of tears. 

In an instant Dame Brinker was at his feet, 
clasping his hand in hers. 

" Oh, what have I done ! Made my good man cry, 
and he not back with me four days! Look up, Raff! 
Nay, Raff, my own boy, I’m sorry I hurt thee. It ’s 
hard not to be told about the watch, after waiting 
ten years to know ; but I ’ll ask thee no more, Raff. 
Here, we ’ll put the thing away that ’s made the first 
trouble, between us, after God just giving thee back 
to me." 

I was a fool to cry, Meitje,” he said, kissing 
[280] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


her ; ' and it ’s no more than right ye should know 
•the truth. But it seemed like it might be telling the 
secrets of the dead to talk about the matter.” 

"Is the man — the lad — thou wert talking of 
dead, think thee ? ” asked the vrotiw , hiding the 
watch in her hand, but seating herself expectantly on 
the end of his long foot-bench. 

" It ’s hard telling,” he answered. 

"Was he so sick, Raff ? ” 

"No, not sick, I may say, but troubled, vrouw — 
very troubled.” 

" Had he done any wrong, think ye ? ” she asked, 
lowering her voice. 

Raff nodded. 

" Murder ?” whispered the wife, not daring to 
look up. 

" He said it was like to that, indeed.” 

" Oh, Raff ! you frighten me. Tell me more — 
you speak so strange ; and you tremble. I must 
know all.” 

" If I tremble, mine vrouw, it must be from the 
fever. There is no guilt on my soul, thank God ! ” 

" Take a sip of this wine, Raff. There, now you 
are better. It was like to a crime, you were saying?” 

"Ay, Meitje — like to murder; that he told me 
himself. But I ’ll never believe it. A likely lad, 
fresh and honest-looking as our own youngster, but 
with something not so bold and straight about him.” 

" Ay, I know,” said the dame, gently, fearing to 
interrupt the story. 


[28!] 


HANS BRINKER 


"He came upon me quite sudden,” continued 
Raff. " I had never seen his face before — the 
palest, frightenedest face that ever was. He caught 
me by the arm, 'You look like an honest man,’ 
says he.” 

"Ay, he was right in that,” interrupted the dame, 
emphatically. 

Raff looked somewhat bewildered. 

" Where was I, mine vrouw ? ” 

" The lad took hold of your arm, Raff,” she said, 
gazing at him anxiously. 

"Ay, so. The words come awkward to me; and 
everything is half like a dream, ye see.” 

"S-stut! What wonder, poor man!” sighed the 
dame, stroking his hand. "If ye had not head 
enough for a dozen, the wit would never have come 
to ye again. Well, the lad caught ye by the arm 
and said ye looked honest (well he might). What 
then ? Was it noontime ? ” 

" Nay, before daylight — long before early chimes.” 

" It was the same day you were hurt,” said the 
dame. " I know it seemed you went to your work 
in the middle of the night. You left off where he 
caught your arm, Raff.” 

"Yes,” resumed her husband; "and I can see 
his face this minute — so white and wild-looking. 
'Take me down the river a way,’ says he. I was 
working then, you ’ll remember, far down on the 
line, across from Amsterdam. I told him I was no 
boatman. ' It ’s an affair of life and death,’ says he, 
[282] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


1 take me on a few miles. Yonder skiff is not locked; 
but it may be a poor man’s boat and I’d be loath to 
rob him.’ (The words might differ some, vrouw , for 
it’s all like a dream.) Well, I took him down, — 
it might be six or eight miles, — and then he said 
he could run the rest of the way on shore. I was in 
haste to get the boat back. Before he jumped out 
he says, sobbing-like : ' I can trust you. I ’ve done a 
thing — God knows I never intended it — but the 
man is dead. I must fly from Holland.’ ” 

"What was it, did he say, Raff? Had he been 
shooting at a comrade, like they do down at the 
University of Gottingen ? ” 

" I can’t recall that. Mayhap he told me; but it’s 
all like a dream. I said it was n’t for me, a good 
Hollander, to cheat the laws of my country by help- 
ing him off that way. But he kept saying, ' God 
knows I am innocent ! ’ and looked at me in the 
starlight as fair, now, and clear-eyed as our little 
Hans might — and I just pulled away faster.” 

"It must have been Jan Kamphuisen’s boat,” re- 
marked Dame Brinker, dryly ; " none other would 
have left his oars out that careless.” 

"Ay, it was Jan’s boat, sure enough. The man 
will be coming in to see me Sunday, likely, if he ’s 
heard ; and young Hoogsvliet, too. Where was I ? ” 
It was lucky the dame restrained herself. To have 
spoken at all of Jan, after the last night’s cruel dis- 
appointment, would have been to have let out more 
sorrow and suspicion than Raff could bear. 

C 2S 3 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Where were you ? Why, not very far, forsooth. 
The lad hadn’t yet given ye the watch. Alack! I 
misgive whether he came by it honestly.” 

" Why, vrouw ! ” exclaimed Raff, in an injured 
tone. "He was dressed soft and fine as the prince 
himself. The watch was his own, clear enough.” 

"How came he to give it up ? ” asked the dame, 
looking uneasily at the fire, for it needed another 
block of peat. 

" I told ye just now,” he answered with a puzzled 
air. 

"Tell me again,” said Dame Brinker, wisely ward- 
ing off another digression. 

" Well, just before jumping from the boat, he says, 
handing me the watch: * I’m flying from my country, 
as I never thought I could. I trust you, because you 
look honest. Will you take this to my father — not 
to-day, but in a week, and tell him his unhappy boy 
sent it ; and tell him, if ever the time comes that he 
wants me to come back to him, I ’ll brave everything 
and come. Tell him to send a letter to — to — ’ 
There, the rest is all gone from me. I cant re- 
member where the letter was to go. Poor lad, poor 
lad ! resumed Raff, sorrowfully, taking the watch 
from his vrouw s lap as he spoke; "and it’s never 
been sent to his father to this day.” 

I ’ll take it, Raff, never fear, the moment Gretel 
gets back. She will be in soon. What was the 
father’s name, did you say ? Where were you to 
find him ? ” 


[ 2 s 4 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

"Alack!” answered Raff, speaking very slowly, 
"it’s all slipped me. I can see the lad’s face and 
his great eyes just as plain ; and I remember his 
opening the watch and snatching something from it 
and kissing it, but no more. All the rest whirls past 
me. There ’s a kind of sound like rushing waters 
comes over me when I try to think.” 

"Ay. That ’s plain to see, Raff ; but I ’ve had the 
same feeling after a fever. You ’re tired now; I must 
get ye straight on the bed again. Where is the 
child, I wonder ? ” 

Dame Brinker opened the door and called : 
" Gretel, Gretel ? ” 

" Stand aside, vrouw ,” said Raff, feebly, as he 
leaned forward and endeavored to look out upon the 
bare landscape. " I ’ve half a mind to stand beyond 
the door just once.” 

" Nay, nay,” she laughed. " I ’ll tell the meester 
how ye tease and fidget and bother to be let out in 
the air ; and if he says it I ’ll bundle ye warm to- 
morrow and give ye a turn on your feet. But I’m 
freezing you with this door open. I declare, if there 
is n’t Gretel, with her apron full, skating on the canal 
like wild. Why, man ! ” she continued almost in a 
scream, as she slammed the door, " thou ’rt walking 
to the bed without my touching thee! Thou ’It fall! ” 

The dame’s "thee ” proved her mingled fear and 
delight, even more than the rush which she made 
toward her husband. Soon he was comfortably set- 
tled under the new cover, declaring, as his vrouw 
[285] 


HANS BRINKER 

tucked him in snug and warm, that it was the last 
daylight that should see him abed. 

"Ay! I can hope it myself," laughed Dame Brinker, 
"now you have been frisking about at that rate.” As 
Raff closed his eyes the dame hastened to revive her 
fire, or, rather, to dull it ; for Dutch peat is like a 
Dutchman, slow to kindle, but very good at a blaze 
when once started. Then putting her neglected 
spinning-wheel away, she drew forth her knitting 
from some invisible pocket and seated herself by 
the bedside. 

" If you could remember that man’s name. Raff," 
she began cautiously, " I might take the watch to him 
while you ’re sleeping ; Gretel can’t but be in soon." 

Raff tried to think, but in vain. 

" Could it be Boomphoffen ? ’’ suggested the dame. 
"I’ve heard how they’ve had two sons turn out 
bad — Gerard and Lambert." 

" It might be,’’ said Raff. " Look if there ’s letters 
on the watch ; that ’ll guide us some." 

" Bless thee, man ! ’’ cried the happy dame, eagerly 
lifting the watch ; " why, thou ’rt sharper than ever ! 
Sure enough. Here’s letters — L. J. B. That’s 
Lambert Boomphoffen, you may depend. What the 
J is for, I can’t say ; but they used to be grand 
kind o’ people, high-feathered as fancy fowl — just 
the kind to give their children all double names, 
which # is n’t Scripture, anyway." 

" I don’t know about that, vrouw. Seems to me 
there’s long mixed names in the Holy Book, hard 
[286] 






HANS BRINKER 


enough to make out. But you Ve got the right guess 
at a jump. It was your way always,” said Raff, closing 
his eyes. " Take the watch to Boompkinks, and try.” 

" Not Boompkinks ! I know no such name ; it ’s 
Boomphoffen.” 

" Ay, take it there.” 

" Take it there, man ! Why, the whole brood of 
’em ’s been gone to America these four years. But go 
to sleep, Raff ; you look pale and out of strength. It ’ll 
all come to you what ’s best to do, in the morning. 
" So, Mistress Gretel ! here you are at last ! ” 

Before Raff awoke that evening the fairy god- 
mother, as we know, had been at the cottage, the 
guilders were once more safely locked in the big 
chest, and Dame Brinker and the children were 
faring sumptuously on meat and white bread and wine. 

So the mother, in the joy of her heart, told them 
the story of the watch as far as she deemed it pru- 
dent to divulge it. It was no more than fair, she 
thought, that the poor things should know, after 
keeping the secret so safe ever since they had been 
old enough to know anything. 


[288] 



XL 


A DISCOVERY 


-== SHE next sun brought a busy day to the 
Brinkers. In the first place, the news of the 
thousand guilders had, of course, to be told 
to the father. Such tidings as that surely could 
not harm him. Then, while Gretel was diligently 
obeying her mother’s injunction to " clean the place 
fresh as a new brewing,” Hans and the dame sal- 
lied forth to revel in the purchasing of peat and 
provisions. 

Hans was careless and contented ; the dame was 
filled with delightful anxieties caused by the unrea- 
sonable demands of ten thousand guilders’ worth of 
new wants that had sprung up like mushrooms in a 
single night. The -happy woman talked so largely to 
Hans on their way to Amsterdam and brought back 
such little bundles after all that he scratched his be- 
wildered head as he leaned against the chimney piece, 
wondering whether, " bigger the pouch, tighter the 
[289] 


HANS BRINKER 


string ” was in Jacob Cats, and therefore true, or 
whether he had dreamed it when he lay in a fever. 

"What thinking on, big eyes?” chirruped his 
mother, half reading his thoughts as she bustled 
about, preparing the dinner ; " what thinking on ? 
Why, Raff, would ye believe it ? the child thought to 
carry half Amsterdam back on his head ! Bless us ! 
he would have bought as much coffee as would have 
filled this fire-pot. 'No, no, my lad!’ says I, 'no 
time for leaks when the ship is rich laden ’ ; and 
then how he stared! — ay, just as he stares this 
minute. Hoot, lad! fly around a mite. Ye’ll grow 
to the chimney place with your staring and wonder- 
ing. Now, Raff, here ’s your chair at the head of 
the table, where it should be, for there ’s a man to 
the house now ; I’d say it to the king’s face. Ay, 
that ’s the way ; lean on Hans ; there ’s a strong 
staff for you ! Growing like a weed too, and it 
seems only yesterday since he was toddling. Sit 
by, my man, sit by.” . 

" Can you call to mind, vrouw ,” said Raff, settling 
himself cautiously in the big chair, "the wonderful 
music box that cheered your working in the big 
house at Heidelberg?” 

"Ay, that I can,” answered the dame. "Three 
turns of a brass key, and the witchy thing would 
send the music fairly running up and down one’s 
back. I remember it well. But, Raff” (growing 
solemn in an instant), "you would never throw our 
guilders away for a thing like that ? ” 

[ 2 9 ° ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


''No, no, not I, vrouw , for the good Lord has 
already given me a music box ‘without pay.” 

All three cast quick, frightened glances at one an- 
other and at Raff. Were his wits on the wing again ? 

" Ay, and a music box that fifty pouchfuls would 
not buy from me,” insisted Raff. "And it’s set go- 
ing by the turn of a mop handle ; and it slips and 
glides around the room, everywhere in a flash, carry- 
ing the music about, till you ’d swear the birds were 
back again.” 

" Holy St. Bavon ! ” screeched the dame, " what ’s 
in the man ? ” 

" Comfort and joy, vrouw ; that ’s what ’s in him ! 
Ask Gretel, ask my little music box Gretel, if your 
man has lacked comfort and joy this day.” 

"Not he, mother,” laughed Gretel. "He’s been 
my music box too. We sang together half the time 
you were gone.” 

" Ay, so ! ” said the dame, greatly relieved. " Now, 
Hans, you ’ll never get through with a piece like that ; 
but never mind, chick, thou ’st had a long fasting. 
Here, Gretel, take another slice of the sausage ; it ’ll 
put blood in your cheeks.” 

" Oh, oh, mother ! ” laughed Gretel, eagerly hold- 
ing forth her platter. " Blood don’t grow in girls’ 
cheeks ; you mean roses. Is n’t it roses, Hans ? ” 

While Hans was hastily swallowing a mammoth 
mouthful, in order to give a suitable reply to this 
poetic appeal, Dame Brinker settled the matter 
with a quick: "Well, roses or blood, it’s all one 
[291 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


to me, so the red finds its way on your sunny face. 
It ’s enough for mother to get pale and weary- 
looking, without- — ” 

" Hoot, vroviw ! ” spoke up Raff, hastily. "Thou ’rt 
fresher and rosier this minute than both our chicks 
put together.” 

This remark, though not bearing very strong tes- 
timony to the clearness of Raff’s newly awakened 
intellect, nevertheless afforded the dame intense 
satisfaction ; the meal, accordingly, passed off in 
the most delightful manner. 

After dinner the affair of the watch was talked 
over and the mysterious initials duly discussed. 

Hans had just pushed back his stool, intending to 
start at once for Mynheer van Holp’s, and his 
mother had risen to put the watch away in its old 
hiding place, when they heard the sound of wheels 
upon the frozen ground. 

Someone knocked at the door, opening it at the 
same time. 

" Come in ! ” stammered Dame Brinker, hastily 
trying to hide the watch in her bosom. " Oh ! is it 
you, Mynheer ? Good day ! The father is nearly well, 
as you see. It ’s a poor place to greet you in, Mynheer, 
and the dinner not cleared away.” 

Dr. Boekman scarcely noticed the dame’s apology. 
He was evidently in haste. 

" Ahem ! ” he exclaimed ; " not needed here, I 
perceive. The patient is mending fast.” 

"Well he may, Mynheer,” cried the dame; "for 

[ 2 9 2 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


only last night we found a thousand guilders that ’s 
been lost to us these ten years.” 

Dr. Boekman opened his eyes. 

"Yes, Mynheer,” said Raff. "I bid the vrouw 
tell you, thpugh it ’s to be a secret among us ; for I 
see you can keep your lips closed as well as any man.” 

The doctor scowled. He never liked personal 
remarks. 

"Now, Mynheer,” continued Raff, "you can take 
your rightful pay. God knows you have earned it, if 
bringing such a poor tool back to the world and his 
family can be called a service. Tell the vrouw what’s 
to pay, Mynheer ; she will hand out the sum right 
willingly.” 

"Tut, tut ! ” said the doctor, kindly. " Say nothing 
about money. I can find plenty of such pay any 
time ; but gratitude comes seldom. That boy’s 'Thank 
you,’ ” he added, nodding sidewise toward Hans," was 
pay enough for me.” 

" Like enough ye have a boy of your own,” said 
Dame Brinker, quite delighted to see the great man 
becoming so sociable. 

Dr. Boekman’s good-nature vanished at once. He 
gave a growl (at least, it seemed so to Gretel), but 
made no actual reply. 

" Do not think the vrouw meddlesome, Mynheer,” 
said Raff. " She has been sore touched of late about 
a lad whose folks have gone away, none know where ; 
and I had a message for them from the young 
gentleman.” 


[293] 


HANS BRINKER 


" The name was Boomphoffen,” said the dame, 
eagerly. " Do you know aught of the family, Mynheer? ” 

The doctor’s reply was brief and gruff. 

" Yes. A troublesome set. They went, long since, 
to America.” 

" It might be, Raff,” persisted Dame Brinker, 
timidly, " that the me ester knows somebody in that 
country, though I’m told they are mostly savages 
over there. If we could get the watch to the 
Boomphoffens, with the poor lad’s message, it would 
be a most blessed thing.” 

"Tut, vrouw ! Why pester the good me ester, and 
dying men and women wanting him everywhere ? 
How do ye know ye have the true name ? ” 

"I’m sure of it!” she replied. "They had a 
son Lambert ; and there ’s an L for Lambert, and 
a B for Boomphoffen, on the back ; though, to be 
sure there ’s an odd J too ; but the meester can look 
for himself.” 

So saying, she drew forth the watch. 

" L. J. B. ! ” cried Dr. Boekman, springing toward 
her. 

Why attempt to describe the scene that followed ? 
I need only say that the lad’s message was delivered 
to his father at last — delivered while the great 
surgeon was sobbing like a little child. 

" Laurens, my Laurens ! ” he cried, gazing with 
yearning eyes at the watch as he held it tenderly in 
his palm. " Ah, if I had but known sooner ! Laurens 
a homeless wanderer ? Great heaven ! he may be 

[ 2 94 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


suffering, dying, at this moment ! Think, man, where 
is he? Where did my boy say the letter must 
be sent ? ” 

Raff shook his head sadly. 

" Think ! ” implored the doctor. Surely the mem- 
ory so lately awakened through his aid could not 
refuse to serve him in a moment like this. 

"It is all gone, Mynheer,” sighed Raff. 

Hans, forgetting distinctions of rank and station, 
forgetting everything but that his good friend was in 
trouble, threw his arms around the doctor’s neck. 

" I can find your son; Mynheer. If alive, he is 
somewhere . The earth is not so very large ; I will 
devote every day of my life to the search. Mother 
can spare me now. You are rich, Mynheer ; send 
me where you will.” 

Gretel began to cry. It was right for Hans to go ; 
but how could they ever live without him ? 

Dr. Boekman made no reply, neither did he push 
Hans away. His eyes were fixed anxiously upon 
Raff Brinker. Suddenly he lifted the watch and with 
trembling eagerness attempted to open it. Its stiff- 
ened spring yielded at last ; the case flew open, 
disclosing a watch-paper in the back bearing a group 
of blue forget-me-nots. Raff, seeing a shade of in- 
tense disappointment pass over the doctor’s face, 
hastened to say : " There was something else in it, 
Mynheer, but the young gentleman tore it out before 
he handed it to me. I saw him kiss it as he put 
it away.” 


[ 2 95 ] 


HANS BRI NICER 

" It was his mother’s picture,” moaned the doctor ; 
" she died when he was ten years old. Thank God ! 
the boy had not forgotten. Both dead ? It is im- 
possible ! ” he cried, starting up. " My boy is alive. 
You shall hear his story. Laurens acted as my 
assistant. By mistake he portioned out the wrong 
medicine for one of my patients — a deadly poison ; 
but it was never administered, for I discovered the 
error in time. The man died that day. I was de- 
tained with other bad cases until the next evening. 
When I reached home my boy was gone. Poor 
Laurens ! ” sobbed the doctor, breaking down com- 
pletely, " never to hear from me through all these 
years. His message disregarded. Oh, what must he 
have suffered ! ” 

Dame Brinker ventured to speak. Anything was 
better than to see the meester cry. 

"It is a mercy to know the young gentleman was 
innocent. Ah, how he fretted ! Telling you, Raff, 
that his crime was like unto murder. It was sending 
the wrong physic he meant. Crime, indeed ! Why, 
our own Gretel might have done that ! Like enough 
the poor young gentleman heard that the man was 
dead. That ’s why he ran, Mynheer. He said, you 
know, Raff, that he never could come back to 
Holland again, unless,” she hesitated — "ah, your 
honor, ten years is a dreary time to be waiting to 
hear from — ” 

" Hist, vrouw\ ” said Raff, sharply. 

" Waiting to hear,” groaned the doctor, " and I, 

[ 2 96 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

like a fool, sitting stubbornly at home, thinking he 
had abandoned me. I never dreamed, Brinker, that 
the boy had discovered the mistake. I believed it 
was youthful folly, ingratitude, love of adventure, that 
sent him away. My poor, poor Laurens ! ” 

" But you know all now, Mynheer,” whispered 
Hans. "You know he was innocent of wrong, that 
he loved you and his dead mother. We will find 
him. You shall see him again, dear me ester.” 

" God bless you ! ” said Dr. Boekman, seizing the 
boy’s hand, " it may be as you say. I shall try, I 
shall try — and, Brinker, if ever the faintest gleam 
of recollection concerning him should come to you, 
you will send me word at once ? ” 

" Indeed we will ! ” cried all but Hans, whose 
silent promise would have satisfied the doctor, even 
had the others not spoken. 

"Your boy’s eyes,” he said, turning to Dame 
Brinker, "are strangely like my son’s. The first 
time I met him, it seemed that . Laurens himself 
was looking at me.” 

"Ay, Mynheer,” replied the mother, proudly. "I 
have remarked that you were much drawn to the 
child.” 

For a few moments the me ester seemed lost in 
thought ; then, arousing himself, he spoke in a new 
voice : " Forgive me, Raff Brinker, for this tumult. 
Do not feel distressed on my account. I leave your 
house to-day a happier man than I have been for 
many a long year. Shall I take the watch ? ” 

[297] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Certain you must, Mynheer. It was your son’s 
wish.” 

" Even so,” responded the doctor, regarding his 
treasure with a queer frown, for his face could not 
throw off its bad habits in an hour, — " even so. 
And now I must be gone. No medicine is needed 
by my patient, only peace and cheerfulness ; and 
both are here in plenty. Heaven bless you, my good 
friends ! I shall ever be grateful to you.” 

"May Heaven bless you, too, Mynheer! and may 
you soon find the dear young gentleman ! ” said 
Dame Brinker, earnestly, after hurriedly wiping her 
eyes upon the corner of her apron. 

Raff uttered a hearty "Amen! ” and Gretel threw 
such a wistful, eager glance at the doctor that he 
patted her head as he turned to leave the cottage. 

Hans went out also. 

" When can I serve you, Mynheer ? I am ready.” 

"Very well, my boy,” replied Dr. Boekman, with 
peculiar mildness. "Tell them, within, to say noth- 
ing of what has just passed. Meantime, Hans, when 
you are with your father watch his mood. You have 
tact. At any moment he may suddenly be able to 
tell us more.” 

"Trust me for that, Mynheer.” 

" Good day, my boy ! ” cried the doctor, as he 
sprang into his stately coach. 

"Aha!” thought Hans, as it rolled away, "the 
meester has more life in him than I thought.” 


[298] 



THE RACE 


^HE 20th of December came at last, bringing 
with it the perfection of winter weather. All 
over the level landscape lay the warm sunlight. 
It tried its power on lake, canal, and river ; but the 
ice flashed defiance and showed no sign of melting. 
The very weathercocks stood still to enjoy the sight. 
This gave the windmills a holiday. Nearly all the 
past week they had been whirling briskly ; now, be- 
ing rather out of breath, they rocked lazily in the 
clear, still air. Catch a windmill working when the 
weathercocks have nothing to do ! 

There was an end to grinding, crushing, and saw- 
ing for that day. It was a good thing for the millers 
near Broek. Long before noon they concluded to 
take in their sails and go to the race. Everybody 
would be there. Already the north side of the frozen 
Y was bordered with eager spectators ; the news of 
the great skating match had traveled far and wide. 

[ 2 99 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Men, women, and children, in holiday attire, were 
flocking toward the spot. Some wore furs and win- 
try cloaks or shawls ; but many, consulting their 
feelings rather than the almanac, were dressed as 
for an October day. 

The site selected for the race was a faultless plain 
of ice near Amsterdam, on that great arm of the 
Zuider Zee, which Dutchmen, of course, must call 
the Eye. The townspeople turned out in large num- 
bers. Strangers in the city deemed it a fine chance 
to see what was to be seen. Many a peasant from 
the northward had wisely chosen the 20th as the 
day for the next city-trading. It seemed that every- 
body, young and old, who had wheels, skates, or feet 
at command had hastened to the scene. 

There were the gentry in their coaches, dressed 
like Parisians fresh from the boulevards ; Amsterdam 
children in charity uniforms ; girls from the Roman 
Catholic Orphan House, in sable gowns and white 
headbands ; boys from the Burgher Asylum, with 
their black tights and short-skirted harlequin coats. 
There were old-fashioned gentlemen in cocked hats 
and velvet knee-breeches ; old-fashioned ladies, too, 
in stiff, quilted skirts, and bodices of dazzling bro- 
cade. These were accompanied by servants bearing 
foot stoves and cloaks. There were the peasant folk 
arrayed in every possible Dutch costume — shy young 
rustics in brazen buckles ; simple village maidens 
concealing their flaxen hair under fillets of gold ; 
women whose long, narrow aprons were stiff with 

[ 3 °° ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

embroidery ; women with short corkscrew chrls hang- 
ing over their foreheads ; women with shaved heads 
and close-fitting caps ; and women in striped skirts 
and windmill bonnets ; men in leather, in homespun, 
in velvet and broadcloth ; burghers in model Euro- 
pean attire, and burghers in short jackets, wide trou- 
sers, and steeple-crowned hats. 

There were beautiful Friesland girls in wooden 
shoes and coarse petticoats, with solid gold crescents 
encircling their heads, finished at each temple with 
a golden rosette and hung with lace a century old. 
Some wore necklaces, pendants, and earrings of the 
purest gold. Many were content with gilt, or even 
with brass, but it is not an uncommon thing for a 
Friesland woman to have all the family treasure in 
her headgear. More than one rustic lass displayed 
the value of two thousand guilders upon her head 
that day. 

Scattered throughout the crowd were peasants from 
the island of Marken, with sabots, black stockings, 
and the widest of breeches ; also women from Mar- 
ken, with short blue petticoats and black jackets 
gayly figured in front. They wore red sleeves, white 
aprons, and a cap like a bishop’s miter over their 
golden hair. 

The children often were as quaint and odd-looking 
as their elders. In short, one third of the crowd 
seemed to have stepped bodily from a collection of 
Dutch paintings. 

Everywhere could be seen tall women and stumpy 
[ 3 01 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


men, lively-faced girls, and youths whose expression 
never changed from sunrise to sunset. 

There seemed to be at least one specimen from 
every known town in Holland. There were Utrecht 
water-bearers, Gouda cheese-makers, Delft pottery- 
men, Schiedam distillers, Amsterdam diamond-cutters, 
Rotterdam merchants, dried-up herring-packers, and 
two sleepy-eyed shepherds from Texel. Every man 
of them had his pipe and tobacco pouch. Some 
carried what might be called the smoker’s complete 
outfit — a pipe, tobacco, a pricker with which to 
clean the tube, a silver net for protecting the bowl, 
and a box of the strongest of brimstone matches. 

A true Dutchman, you must remember, is rarely 
without his pipe on any possible occasion. He may 
for a moment neglect to breathe ; but when the pipe 
is forgotten, he must be dying, indeed. There were 
no such sad cases here. Wreaths of smoke were 
rising from every possible quarter. The more fan- 
tastic the smoke-wreath, the more placid and solemn 
the smoker. 

Look at those boys and girls on stilts ! That is a 
good idea. They can see over the heads of the tallest. 
It is strange to see those little bodies high in the air, 
carried about on mysterious legs. They have such a 
resolute look on their round faces, what wonder that 
nervous old gentlemen with tender feet wince and 
tremble while the long-legged little monsters stride 
past them ! 

You will read in certain books that the Dutch are 

[302] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


a quiet people ; so they are, generally. But listen ! 
did ever you hear such a din ? All made up of 
human voices — no, the horses are helping some- 
what, and the fiddles are squeaking pitifully (how it 
must pain fiddles to be tuned !), but the mass of the 
sound comes from the great vox humana that belongs 
to a crowd. 

That queer little dwarf going about with a heavy 
basket, winding in and out among the people, helps 
not a little. You can hear his shrill cry above all the 
other sounds, " Pypen en tabac ! Pypen en tabac ! ” 

Another, his big brother, though evidently some 
years younger, is selling doughnuts and bonbons. He 
is calling on all pretty children far and near to come 
quickly or the cakes will be gone. 

You know quite a number among the spectators. 
High up in yonder pavilion, erected upon the border 
of the ice, are some persons whom you have seen 
very lately. In the center is Madame van deck. It 
is her birthday, you remember ; she has the post of 
honor. There is Mynheer van deck, whose meer- 
schaum has not really grown fast to his lips ; it only 
appears so. There are grandfather and grandmother, 
whom you met at the St. Nicholas fete. All the 
children are with them. It is so mild they have 
brought even the baby. The poor little creature is 
swaddled very much after the manner of an Egyptian 
mummy ; but it can crow with delight and, when the 
band is playing, open and shut its animated mittens 
in perfect time to the music. 

[ 3°3 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Grandfather, with his pipe and spectacles and fur 
cap, makes quite a picture as he holds baby upon his 
knee. Perched high upon their canopied platforms, 
the party can see all that is going on. No wonder 
the ladies look complacently at the glassy ice — with 
a stove for a footstool, one might sit cozily beside 
the north pole. 

There is a gentleman with them who somewhat 
resembles St. Nicholas as he appeared to the young 
Van Glecks on the fifth of December. But the saint 
had a flowing white beard, and this face is as smooth 
as a pippin. His saintship was larger around the 
body too, and (between ourselves) he had a pair of 
thimbles in his mouth, which this gentleman cer- 
tainly has not. It cannot be St. Nicholas, after all. 

Near by, in the next pavilion, sit the Van Holps, 
with their son and daughter (the Van Gends) from 
The Hague. Peter’s sister is not one to forget her 
promises. She has brought bouquets of exquisite 
hothouse flowers for the winners. 

These pavilions, and there are others besides, have 
all been erected since daylight. That semicircular 
one, containing Mynheer Korbes’s family, is very 
pretty, and proves that the Hollanders are quite 
skilled at tent-making; but I like the Van Glecks’ 
best, — the center one, — striped red and white and 
hung with evergreens. 

The one with the blue flags contains the musi- 
cians. Those pagoda-like affairs, decked with sea 
shells and streamers of every possible hue, are the 

[304] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

judges’ stands ; and those columns and flagstaffs 
upon the ice mark the limit of the race course. The 
two white columns twined with green, connected at 
the top by that long, floating strip of drapery, form 
the starting-point. Those flagstaffs half a mile off 
stand at each end of the boundary line, cut suffi- 
ciently deep to be distinct to the skaters, though not 
enough so to trip them when they turn to come 
back to the starting-point. 

The air is so clear it seems scarcely possible that 
' the columns and flagstaffs are so far apart. Of course 
the judges’ stands are but little nearer together. 

Half a mile on the ice, when the atmosphere is 
like this, is but a short distance, after all, especially 
when fenced with a living chain of spectators. 

The music has commenced. How melody seems 
to enjoy itself in the open air ! The fiddles have 
forgotten their agony, and everything is harmonious. 
Until you look at the blue tent, it seems that the 
music springs from the sunshine, it is so boundless, 
so joyous. Only when you see the staid-faced musi- 
cians, you realize the truth. 

Where are the racers ? All assembled together 
near the white columns. It is a beautiful sight — 
forty boys and girls in picturesque attire, darting 
with electric swiftness in and out among each other, 
or sailing in pairs and triplets, beckoning, chatting, 
whispering, in the fullness of youthful glee. 

A few careful ones are soberly tightening their 
straps ; others, halting on one leg, with flushed, 

[305] 


HANS BRINKER 


eager faces, suddenly cross the suspected skate over 
their knee, give it an examining shake, and dart off 
again. One and all are possessed with the spirit of 
motion. They cannot stand still. Their skates are a 
part of them, and every runner seems bewitched. 

Holland is the place for skaters, after all. Where 
else can nearly every boy and girl perform feats on 
the ice that would attract a crowd if seen on Central 
Park ? Look at Ben ! I did not see him before. He 
is really astonishing the natives — no easy thing to 
do in the Netherlands. Save your strength, Ben, you 
will need it soon. Now other boys are trying ! Ben 
is surpassed already. Such jumping, such poising, 
such spinning, such india-rubber exploits generally ! 
That boy with the red cap is the lion now ; his back 
is a watch spring, his body is cork — no, it is iron, 
or it would snap at that. He is a bird, a top, a rab- 
bit, a corkscrew, a sprite, a flesh-ball, all in an instant. 
When you think he ’s erect, he is down ; and when 
you think he is down, he is up. He drops his glove 
on the ice and turns a somersault as he picks it up. 
Without stopping he snatches the cap from Jacob 
Poot’s astonished head and claps it back again "hind- 
side before.” Lookers-on hurrah and laugh. Foolish 
boy ! It is arctic weather under your feet, but more 
than temperate overhead. Big drops already are roll- 
ing down your forehead. Superb skater, as you are, 
you may lose the race. 

A French traveler standing with a notebook in his 
hand sees our English friend Ben buy a doughnut 
[306] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

of the dwarf’s brother and eat it. Thereupon he 
writes in his notebook that the Dutch take enormous 
mouthfuls and universally are fond of potatoes boiled 
in molasses. 

There are some familiar faces near the white col- 
umns. Lambert, Ludwig, Peter, and Carl are all 
there, cool, and in good skating order. Hans is not 
far off. Evidently he is going to join in the race, for 
his skates are on — the very pair that he sold for 
seven guilders. He had soon suspected that his fairy 
godmother was the mysterious " friend ” who had 
bought them. This settled, he had boldly charged 
her with the deed ; and she, knowing well that all 
her little savings had been spent in the purchase, had 
not had the face to deny it. Through the fairy god- 
mother, too, he had been rendered amply able to buy 
them back again. Therefore Hans is to be in the race. 
Carl is more indignant than ever about it ; but as three 
other peasant boys have entered, Hans is not alone. 

Twenty boys and twenty girls. The latter, by this 
time, are standing in front, braced for the start ; for 
they are to have the first "run.” Hilda, Rychie, 
and Katrinka are among them. Two or three bend 
hastily to give a last pull at their skate straps. It is 
pretty to see them stamp to be sure that all is firm. 
Hilda is speaking pleasantly to a graceful little crea- 
ture in a red jacket and a new brown petticoat. Why, 
it is Gretel ! What a difference those pretty shoes 
make, and the skirt, and the new cap ! Annie Bou- 
man is there too. Even Janzoon Kolp’s sister has 

[ 3°7 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

been admitted ; but Janzoon himself has been voted 
out by the directors because he killed the stork, and 
only last summer was caught in the act of robbing a 
bird’s nest — a legal offense in Holland. 

This Janzoon Kolp, you see, was — There, I 
cannot tell the story just now. The race is about 
to commence. 

Twenty girls are formed in a line. The music has 
ceased. 

A man whom we shall call the crier stands between 
the columns and the first judges’ stand. He reads 
the rules in a loud voice : "The girls and boys are 
to race in turn until one girl and one boy has beaten 
twice. They are to start in a line from the united 
columns, skate to the flagstaff line, turn, and then 
come back to the starting-point ; thus making a mile 
at each run.” 

A flag is waved from the judges’ stand. Madame 
van Gleck rises in her pavilion. She leans forward 
with a white handkerchief in her hand. When she 
drops it, a bugler is to give the signal for them to 
start. 

The handkerchief is fluttering to the ground. 
Hark! 

They are off ! 

No. Back again. Their line was not true in 
passing the judges’ stand. 

The signal is repeated. 

Off again. No mistake this time. Whew ! how 
fast they go ! 


[308] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


The multitude is quiet for an instant, absorbed in 
eager, breathless watching. 

Cheers spring up along the line of spectators. 
Huzza ! five girls are ahead. Who comes flying back 
from the boundary mark ? We cannot tell. Some- 
thing red, that is all. There is a blue spot flitting 
near it, and a dash of yellow nearer still. Spectators 
at this end of the line strain their eyes and wish 
they had taken their post nearer the flagstaff. 

The wave of cheers is coming back again. Now 
we can see. Katrinka is ahead ! 

She passes the Van Holp pavilion. The next is 
Madame van deck’s. That leaning figure gazing 
from it is a magnet. Hilda shoots past Katrinka, 
waving her hand to her mother as she passes. Two 
others are close now, whizzing on like arrows. What 
is that flash of red and gray ? Hurrah, it is Gretel ! 
She, too, waves her hand, but toward no gay pavil- 
ion. The crowd is cheering ; but she hears only 
her father’s voice, "Well done, little Gretel ! ” Soon 
Katrinka, with a quick, merry laugh, shoots past 
Hilda. The girl in yellow is gaining now. She 
passes them all — all except Gretel. The judges 
lean forward without seeming to lift their eyes from 
their watches. Cheer after cheer fills the air ; the 
very columns seem rocking. Gretel has passed them ! 
She has won ! 

" Gretel Brinker, one mile ! ’’ shouts the crier. 

The judges nod. They write something upon a 
tablet which each holds in his hand. 

[309] 


HANS BRINKER 

While the girls are resting — some crowding 
eagerly around our frightened little Gretel, some 
standing aside in high disdain — the boys form in 
line. 

Mynheer van Gleck drops the handkerchief this 
time. The buglers give a vigorous blast. 

The boys have started. 

Halfway already. Did ever you see the like ! 

Three hundred legs flashing by in an instant. But 
there are only twenty boys. No matter ; there were 
hundreds of legs, I am sure. Where are they now ? 
There is such a noise, one gets bewildered. What are 
the people laughing at ? Oh ! at that fat boy in the 
rear. See him go ! See him ! He ’ll be down in an 
instant; no, he won’t. I wonder if he knows he is 
all alone ; the other boys are nearly at the boundary 
line. Yes, he knows it. He stops. He wipes his 
hot face. He takes off his cap and looks about him. 
Better to give up with a good grace. He has made 
a hundred friends by that hearty, astonished laugh. 
Good Jacob Poot ! 

The fine fellow is already among the spectators, 
gazing as eagerly as the rest. 

A cloud of feathery ice flies from the heels of the 
skaters as they "bring to” and turn at the flagstaffs. 

Something black is coming now, one of the boys ; 
it is all we know. He has touched the vox humana 
stop of the crowd ; it fairly roars. Now they come 
nearer; we can see the red cap. There’s Ben, there’s 
Peter, there ’s Hans ! 


[ 3*° i 




HANS BRINK ER 


Hans is ahead. Young Madame van Gend almost 
crushes the flowers in her hand ; 'she had been quite 
sure that Peter would be first. Carl Schummel.is 
next, then Ben, and the youth with the red cap. 
The others are pressing close. A tall figure darts 
from among them. He passes the red cap, he passes 
Ben, then Carl. Now it is an even race between him 
and Hans. Madame van Gend catches her breath. 

It is Peter ! He is ahead ! Hans shoots past 
him. Hilda’s eyes fill with tears. Peter must beat. 
Annie’s eyes flash proudly. Gretel gazes with clasped 
hands ; four strokes more will take her brother to 
the columns. 

He is there! Yes; but so was young Schummel 
just a second before. At the last instant Carl, gather- 
ing his powers, had whizzed between them and 
passed the goal. 

" Carl Schummel, one mile ! ” shouts the crier. 

Soon Madame van Gleck rises again. The falling 
handkerchief starts the bugle ; and the bugle, using 
its voice as a bowstring, shoots off twenty girls like 
so many arrows. 

It is a beautiful sight, but one has not long to 
look. Before we can fairly distinguish them, they 
are far in the distance. This time they are close 
upon one another. It is hard to say, as they come 
speeding back from the flagstaff, which will reach 
the columns first. There are new faces among the 
foremost — eager, glowing faces, unnoticed before. 
Katrinka is there, and Hilda ; but Gretel and Rychie 
[312] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

are in the rear. Gretel is wavering, but when Rychie 
passes her she starts forward afresh. Now they are 
nearly beside Katrinka. Hilda is still in advance; 
she is almost " home.” She has not faltered since 
that bugle note sent her flying. Like an arrow, still 
she is speeding toward the goal. Cheer after cheer 
rises in the air. Peter is silent, but his eyes shine 
like stars. " Huzza ! huzza ! ” 

The crier’s voice is heard again. 

" Hilda van Gleck, one mile ! ” 

A loud murmur of approval runs through the 
crowd, catching the music in its course, till all seems 
one sound, with a glad, rhythmic throbbing in its 
depths. When the flag Waves, all is still. 

Once more the bugle blows a terrific blast. It 
sends off the boys like chaff before the wind — dark 
chaff, I admit, and in big pieces. It is whisked 
around at the flagstaff, driven faster yet by the cheers 
and shouts along the line. We begin to see what is 
coming. There are three boys in advance this time, 
and all abreast — Hans, Peter, and Lambert. Carl 
soon .breaks the ranks, rushing through with a whiff. 
Fly, Hans ; fly, Peter ; don’t let Carl beat again ! 
Carl the bitter, Carl the insolent. Van Mounen is flag- 
ging, but you are as strong as ever. Hans and Peter, 
Peter and Hans. Which is foremost ? We love them 
both. We scarcely care which is the fleeter. 

Hilda, Annie, and Gretel, seated upon the long 
crimson bench, can remain quiet no longer. They 
spring to their feet, so different ! and yet one in 

[ 313 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


eagerness. Hilda instantly reseats herself ; none shall 
know how interested she is ; none shall know how 
anxious, how filled with one hope. Shut your eyes, 
then, Hilda; hide your face rippling with joy. Peter 
has beaten. 

" Peter van Holp, one mile ! ” calls the crier. 

The same buzz of excitement as before, while the 
judges take notes, the same throbbing of music 
through the din ; but something is different. A little 
crowd presses close about some object near the 
column. Carl has fallen. He is not hurt, though 
somewhat stunned. If he were less sullen, he would 
find more sympathy in these warm young hearts. As 
it is, they forget him as soon as he is fairly on his 
feet again. 

The girls are to skate their third mile. 

How resolute the little maidens look as they stand 
in a line ! Some are solemn with a sense of responsi- 
bility ; some wear a smile half-bashful, half-provoked ; 
but one air of determination pervades them all. 

This third mile may decide the race. Still, if 
neither Gretel nor Hilda win, there is yet a chance 
among the rest for the silver skates. 

Each girl feels sure that this time she will accom- 
plish the distance in one half the time. How they 
stamp to try their runners ! How nervously they 
examine each strap! How erect they stand at last, 
every eye upon Madame van deck ! 

The bugle thrills through them again. With quiv- 
ering eagerness they spring forward, bending, but in 

[314]. 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

perfect balance. Each flashing stroke seems longer 
than the last. 

Now they are skimming off in the distance. 

Again the eager straining of eyes ; again the 
shouts and cheering ; again the thrill of excitement, 
as after a few moments four or five, in advance of 
the rest, come speeding back, nearer, nearer, to the 
white columns. 

Who is first ? Not Rychie, Katrinka, Annie, nor 
Hilda, nor the girl in yellow, but Gretel — Gretel, 
the fleetest sprite of a girl that ever skated. She 
was but playing in the earlier race ; now she is in 
earnest, or, rather, something within her has deter- 
mined to win. That lithe little form makes no effort; 
but it cannot stop — not until the goal is passed ! 

In vain the crier lifts his voice ; he cannot be 
heard. He has no news to tell ; it is already ring- 
ing through the crowd. Gretel has won the silver 
skates ! 

Like a bird she has flown over the ice ; like a 
bird she looks about her in a timid, startled way. 
She longs to dart to the sheltered nook where her 
father and mother stand. But Hans is beside her ; 
the girls are crowding round. Hilda’s kind, joyous 
voice breathes in her ear. From that hour none 
will despise her. Goose-girl or not, Gretel stands 
acknowledged Queen of the Skaters. 

With natural pride Hans turns to see if Peter van 
Holp is witnessing his sister’s triumph. Peter is not 
looking toward them at all. He is kneeling, bending 

[31s ] 


HANS BRINKER 


his troubled face low, and working hastily at his 
skate strap. Hans is beside him at once. 

"Are you in trouble, Mynheer ? ” 

" Ah, Hans ! that you ? Yes, my fun is over. I 
tried to tighten my strap, to make a new hole ; and 
this botheration of a knife has cut it nearly in two.” 

" Mynheer,” said Hans, at the same time pulling 
off a skate, " you must use my strap ! ” 

" Not I, indeed, Hans Brinker ! ” cried Peter, 
looking up, " though I thank you warmly. Go to 
your post, my friend ; the bugle will sound in a 
minute.” 

"Mynheer!” pleaded Hans, in a husky voice. 
"You have called me your friend. Take this strap 
— quick ! There is not an instant to lose. I shall 
not skate this time ; indeed, I am out of practice. 
Mynheer, you must take it ” ; and Hans, blind and 
deaf to any remonstrance, slipped his strap into 
Peter’s skate and implored him to put it on. 

" Come, Peter ! ” cried Lambert, from the line ; 
" we are waiting for you.” 

"For madame’s sake,” pleaded Hans, "be quick! 
She is motioning to you to join the racers. There, 
the skate is almost on ; quick, Mynheer, fasten 
it. I could not possibly win. The race lies between 
Master Schummel and yourself.” 

"You are a noble fellow, Hans!” cried Peter, 
yielding at last. He sprang to his post just as the 
white handkerchief fell to the ground. The bugle 
sends forth its blast, loud, clear, and ringing. 

[316]. 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 
Off go the boys. 

"Mine Gott ! ” cries a tough old fellow from 
Delft. "They beat everything — these Amsterdam 
youngsters. See them ! ” 

See them, indeed ! They are winged Mercuries, 
every one of them. What mad errand are they on ? 
Ah, I know : they are hunting Peter van PIolp. He 
is some fleet-footed runaway from Olympus. Mer- 
cury and his troop of winged cousins are in full 
chase. They will catch him ! Now Carl is the run- 
away. The pursuit grows furious. Ben is foremost. 

The chase turns in a cloud of mist' It is coming 
this way. Who is hunted now ? Mercury himself. 
It is Peter, Peter van Holp ! Fly, Peter! Hans is 
watching you. He is sending all his fleetness, all his 
strength, into your feet. Your mother and sister are 
pale with eagerness. Hilda is trembling and dares 
not look up. Fly, Peter ! The crowd has not gone 
deranged ; it is only cheering. The pursuers are 
close upon you. Touch the white column! It beckons; 
it is reeling before you — it — 

" Huzza! huzza! Peter has won the silver skates!” 
" Peter van Holp ! ” shouted the crier. But who 
heard him ? " Peter van Holp ! ” shouted a hundred 
voices ; for he was the favorite boy of the place. 
" Huzza ! huzza ! ” 

Now the music was resolved to be heard. It 
struck up a lively air, then a tremendous march. 
The spectators, thinking something new was about 
to happen, deigned to listen and to look. 

r 3 1 7 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


The racers formed in single file. Peter, being 
tallest, stood first. Gretel, the smallest of all, took 
her place at the end. Hans, who had borrowed a 
strap from the cake-boy, was near the head. 

Three gayly twined arches were placed at intervals 
upon the river, facing the Van Gleck pavilion. 

Skating slowly and in perfect time to the music, 
the boys and girls moved forward, led on by Peter. 
It was beautiful to see the bright procession glide 
along like a living creature. It curved and doubled, 
and drew its graceful length in and out among the 
arches ; whichever way Peter, the head, went, the 
body was sure to follow. Sometimes it steered direct 
for the center arch ; then, as if seized with a new 
impulse, turned away and curled itself about the 
first one ; then unwound slowly and, bending low, 
with quick, snakelike curvings, crossed the river, 
passing at length through the farthest arch. 

When the music was slow the procession seemed 
to crawl like a thing afraid ; it grew livelier, and the 
creature darted forward with a spring, gliding rapidly 
among the arches, in and out, curling, twisting, turn- 
ing, never losing form, until, at the shrill call of the 
bugle rising above the music, it suddenly resolved 
itself into boys and girls standing in double semi- 
circle before Madame van Gleck’s pavilion. 

Peter and Gretel stand in the center, in advance 
of the others. Madame van Gleck rises majestically. 
Gretel trembles, but feels that she must look at the 
beautiful lady. She cannot hear what is said, there 
[3i8] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

is such a buzzing all around her. She is thinking 
that she ought to try and make a curtsy, such as her 
mother makes to the meester , when suddenly some- 
thing so dazzling is placed in her hand that she 
gives a cry of joy. 

Then she ventures to look about her. Peter, too, 
has something in his hands. " Oh, oh ! how splen- 
did ! ” she cries; and "Oh! how splendid!" is 
echoed as far as people can see. 

Meantime the silver skates flash in the sunshine, 
throwing dashes of light upon those two happy faces. 

Mevrouw van Gend sends a little messenger with 
her bouquets — one for Hilda, one for Carl, and 
others for Peter and Gretel. 

At sight of the flowers the Queen of the Skaters 
becomes uncontrollable. With a bright stare of grat- 
itude she gathers skates and bouquet in her apron, 
hugs them to her bosom, and darts off to search 
for her father and mother in the scattering crowd. 


[319] 



XLII 


JOY IN THE COTTAGE 

Tp^\ERHAPS you were surprised to learn that 
^ Raff and his vrouw were at the skating race ; 
J_L you would have been more so had you been 
with them on the evening of that merry 20th of 
December. To see the Brinker cottage standing 
sulkily alone on the frozen marsh, with its bulgy, 
rheumatic-looking walls, and its slouched hat of a 
roof pulled far over its eyes, one would never suspect 
that a lively scene was passing within. Without, 
nothing was left of the day but a low line of blaze 
at the horizon. A few venturesome clouds had 
already taken fire ; and others, with their edges 
burning, were lost in the gathering smoke. 

A stray gleam of sunshine, slipping down from 
the willow stump, crept stealthily under the cottage. 
It seemed to feel that the inmates would give it 
welcome if it could only get near them. The room 
under which it hid was as clean as clean could be, 

[ 3 2 ° ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

The very cracks in the rafters were polished. De- 
licious odors filled the air. A huge peat fire upon 
the hearth sent flashes of harmless lightning at the 
somber walls. It played, in turn, upon the great 
leathern Bible, upon Gretel’s closet bed, the house- 
hold things on their pegs, and the beautiful silver 
skates and the flowers upon the table. Dame 
Brinker’s honest face shone and twinkled in the 
changing light. Gretel and Hans, with arms en- 
twined, were leaning against the fireplace, laughing 
merrily ; and Raff Brinker was dancing ! 

I do not mean that he was pirouetting, or cutting 
a pigeonwing, either of which would have been en- 
tirely too undignified for the father of a family ; I 
simply affirm that while they were chatting pleasantly 
together, Raff suddenly sprang from his seat, snapped 
his fingers, and performed two or three flourishes 
very much like the climax of a Highland fling. 
Next he caught his vrouw in his arms and fairly 
lifted her from the ground in his delight. 

" Huzza ! ” he cried. " I have it ! I have it ! it ’s 
Thomas Higgs. That ’s the name ! It came upon 
me like a flash. Write it down, lad ; write it down! ” 
Someone knocked at the door. 

" It is the meester cried the delighted dame. 
" Goede Gunst, how things come to pass ! ” 

Mother and children came in merry collision as 
they rushed to open the door. 

It was not the doctor, after all, but three boys — 
Peter van Holp, Lambert, and Ben. 

[321 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Good evening, young gentlemen ! ” said Dame 
Brinker, so happy and proud that she would scarce 
have been surprised at a visit from the king himself. 

" Good evening, jufvrouw ! ” said the trio, making 
magnificent bows. 

" Dear me!” thought Dame Brinker as she bobbed 
up and down like a churndasher ; "it’s lucky I 
learned to curtsy at Heidelberg ! ” 

Raff was content to return the boys’ salutations 
with a respectful nod. 

" Pray be seated, young masters,” said the dame, 
as Gretel bashfully thrust a stool toward them. 
" There ’s a lack of chairs, as you see ; but this one 
by the fire is at your service, and if you don’t mind 
the hardness, that oak chest is as good a seat as the 
best. That ’s right, Hans ; pull it out.” 

By the time the boys were seated to the dame’s 
satisfaction, Peter, acting as spokesman, had ex- 
plained that they were going to attend a lecture at 
Amsterdam and had stopped on the way to return 
Hans’s strap. 

" Oh, Mynheer ! ” cried Hans, earnestly. " It is 
too much trouble. I am very sorry.” 

"No trouble at all, Hans. I could have waited 
for you to come to your work to-morrow, had I not 
wished to call. And Hans, talking of your work, 
my father is much pleased with it. A carver by 
trade could not have done it better. He would like 
to have the south arbor ornamented also, but I told 
him you were going to school again.” 

[322 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

" Ay ! ” put in Raff Brinker, emphatically. " Hans 
must go to school at once, and Gretel as well ; that 
is true.” 

"I am glad to hear you say so,” responded Peter, 
turning toward the father, "and very glad to know 
that you are again a well man.” 

"Yes, young master, a well man, and able to 
work as steady as ever, thank God ! ” 

Here Hans hastily wrote something on the edge 
of a time-worn almanac that hung by the chimney 
place. 

"Ay, that’s right, lad, set it down. Figgs — 
Wiggs — alack, alack ! ” added Raff, in great dismay, 
" it ’s gone again ! ” 

"All right, father,” said Hans, "the name’s 
down now in black and white. Here, look at it, 
father ; mayhap the rest will come to you. If we 
had the place as well, it would be complete.” Then 
turning to Peter, he said in a low tone, " I have an 
important errand in town, Mynheer; and if — ” 

"Wist!” exclaimed the dame, lifting her hands, 
" not to Amsterdam to-night, and you ’ve owned 
your legs were aching under you. Nay, nay, it ’ll 
be soon enough to go at early daylight.” 

"Daylight, indeed!” echoed Raff. "That would 
never do. Nay, Meitje, he must go this hour.” 

The vrouw looked for an instant as if Raff’s 
recovery was becoming rather a doubtful benefit ; 
her word was no longer sole law in the house. For- 
tunately the proverb " Humble wife is husband’s 

[323] 


HANS BRINKER 


boss ” had taken deep root in her mind ; even as 
the dame pondered, it bloomed. 

" Very well, Raff,” she said smilingly, "it is thy 
boy as well as mine. Ah ! I’ve a troublesome house, 
young masters.” 

Just then Peter drew a long strap from his pocket. 

Handing it to Hans, he said in an undertone : "I 
need not thank you for lending me this, Hans 
Brinker. Such boys as you do not ask for thanks ; 
but I must say you did me a great kindness, and I 
am proud to acknowledge it. I did not know,” he 
added laughingly, "until fairly in the race, how 
anxious I was to win.” 

Hans was glad to join in Peter’s laugh ; it covered 
his embarrassment and gave his face a chance to 
cool off a little. Honest, generous boys like Hans 
have such a stupid way of blushing when you least 
expect it. 

"It was nothing, Mynheer,” said the dame, has- 
tening to her son’s relief. " The lad’s whole soul 
was in having you win the race ; I know it was.” 

This helped matters beautifully. 

" Ah, Mynheer ! ” Hans hurried to say, " from the 
first start I felt stiff and strange on my feet. I was well 
out of it, so long as I had no chance of winning.” 

Peter looked rather distressed. 

"We may hold different opinions there. That 
part of the business troubles me. It is too late to 
mend it now ; but it would be really a kindness 
to me if — ” 


[324] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

The rest of Peter’s speech was uttered so confi- 
dentially that I cannot record it. Enough to say, 
Hans soon started back in dismay ; and Peter, look- 
ing very much ashamed, stammered out something 
to the effect that he would keep them, since he won 
the race ; but it was " all wrong.” 

Here Van Mounen coughed, as if to remind Peter 
that lecture hour was approaching fast. At the same 
moment Ben laid something upon the table. 

''Ah!” exclaimed Peter, "I forgot my other 
errand. Your sister ran off so quickly to-day that 
Madame van Gleck had no opportunity to give her 
the case for her skates.” 

" S-s-t ! ” said Dame Brinker, shaking her head 
reproachfully at Gretel, " she was a very rude girl, 
I’m sure.” Secretly she was thinking that very few 
women had such a fine little daughter. 

"No, indeed ! ” laughed Peter ; " she did exactly 
the right thing — ran home with her richly won 
treasures. Who would not ? Don’t let us detain you, 
Hans,” he continued, turning as he spoke, but Hans, 
who was eagerly watching the father, seemed to have 
forgotten their presence. 

Meantime Raff, lost in thought, was repeating 
under his breath, "Thomas Higgs, Thomas Higgs ; 
ay, that ’s the name. Alack ! if I could but tell the 
place as well.” 

The skate case was elegantly made of crimson 
morocco ornamented with silver. If a fairy had 
breathed upon its tiny key, or Jack Frost himself 
[325 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

designed its delicate tracery, they could not have 
been more daintily beautiful. For the fleetest 
was written upon the cover in sparkling letters. It 
was lined with velvet, and in one corner was stamped 
the name and address of the maker. 

Gretel thanked Peter in her own simple way ; 
then being quite delighted and confused, and not 
knowing what else to do, lifted the case, carefully 
examining it in every part. " It ’s made by Mynheer 
Birmingham,” she said after a while, still blushing, 
and holding it before her eyes. 

''Birmingham!” replied Lambert van Mounen; 
" that ’s the name of a place in England. Let me 
see it.” 

" Ha, ha ! ” he laughed, holding the open case 
toward the firelight, " no wonder you thought so. 
But it ’s a slight mistake. The case was made 
at Birmingham, but the maker’s name is in smaller 
letters. Humph ! they ’re so small I can’t read 
them.” 

" Let me try,” said Peter, leaning over his 
shoulder. Why, man, it ’s perfectly distinct. It ’s 
T — H— it’s T — ” 

"Well,” exclaimed Lambert, triumphantly, "if you 
can read it so easily, let’s hear it. T — H what?” 

“T. H. — T. H. Oh! why, Thomas Higgs, to 
be sure,” replied Peter, pleased to be able to deci- 
pher it at last. Then, feeling they had been behav- 
ing rather unceremoniously, he turned toward Hans. 

Peter turned pale. What was the matter with 
[326] 







HANS BRINKER 


the people ? Raff and Hans had started up and were 
staring at him in glad amazement. Gretel looked 
wild. Dame Brinker, with an unlighted candle in 
her hand, was rushing about the room, crying : 
" Hans, Hans ! where ’s your hat ? Oh, the meester\ 
oh, the meester\ ” 

" Birmingham ! Higgs ! ” exclaimed Hans. " Did 
you say Higgs ? We ’ve found him ! I must be off.” 

"You see, young masters,” panted the dame, at 
the same time snatching Hans’s hat from the bed, 
"you see — we know him. He’s our — no, he 
is n’t — I mean — Oh, Hans, you must go to 
Amsterdam this minute ! ” 

" Good night, Mynheers ! ” panted Hans, radiant 
with sudden joy ; " good night ! You will excuse 
me. I must go. Birmingham — Higgs — Higgs — 
Birmingham ! ” And seizing his hat from his 
mother and his skates from Gretel, he rushed from 
the cottage. 

What could the boys think, but that the entire 
Brinker family had gone suddenly crazy ? 

They bade an embarrassed good evening and 
turned to go. But Raff stopped them. 

"This Thomas Higgs, young masters, is a — a 
person.” 

" Ah ! ” exclaimed Peter, quite sure that Raff was 
the most crazy of all. 

"Yes, a person — a — ahem! — a friend. We 
thought him dead. I hope it is the same man. 
In England, did you say ? ” 

[328] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

"Yes, Birmingham," answered Peter; "it must 
be Birmingham in England." 

" I know the man," said Ben, addressing Lambert. 
"His factory is not four miles from our place. A 
queer fellow, still as an oyster. Don’t seem at all 
like an Englishman. I ’ve often seen him — a 
solemn-looking chap, with magnificent eyes. He 
made a beautiful writing case once for me to give 
Jenny on her birthday. Makes 'pocketbooks, telescope 
cases, and all kinds of leather- work.” 

As this was said in English, Van Mounen of 
course translated it for the benefit of all concerned, 
noticing meanwhile that neither Raff nor his vronw 
looked very miserable, though Raff was trembling, 
and the dame’s eyes were swimming with tears. 

You may believe the doctor heard every word of the 
story, when, later in the evening, he came driving back 
with Hans. " The three young gentlemen had been 
gone some time," Dame Brinker said, "but like 
enough, by hurrying, it would be easy to find them 
coming out from the lecture, wherever that was." 

" True," said Raff, nodding his head ; " the vrouw 
always hits upon the right thing. It would be well to 
see the young English gentleman, Mynheer, before 
he forgets all about Thomas Higgs. It ’s a slippery 
name, d’ ye see ? One can’t hold it safe a minute. 
It come upon me sudden and strong as a pile-driver, 
and my boy writ it down. Ay, Mynheer, I’d haste 
to talk with the English lad. He’s seen your son 
many a time — only to think on ’t ! ’’ 

[329] 


HANS BRINKER 

Dame Brinker took up the thread of the discourse. 

"You ’ll pick out the lad quick enough, Mynheer, 
because he ’s in company with Master Peter van 
Holp ; and his hair curls all up over his forehead, 
like foreign folk’s ; and if you hear him speak, he 
talks kind of big and fast, only it ’s English ; but 
that wouldn’t be any hindrance to your honor.” 

The doctor had already lifted his hat to go. With 
a beaming face he muttered something about its be- 
ing just like the young scamp to give himself a ras- 
cally English name ; called Hans " my son,” thereby 
making that young gentleman happy as a lord ; and 
left the cottage with very little ceremony, considering 
what a great meester he was. 

The grumbling coachman comforted himself by 
speaking his mind as he drove back to Amsterdam. 
Since the doctor was safely stowed away in the coach 
and could not hear a word, it was a fine time to say 
terrible things of folks who had n’t no manner of 
feeling for nobody and who were always wanting the 
horses a dozen times of a night. 


[ 33 ° ] 



THOMAS HIGGS 


"J RIGGS'S factory was a mine of delight for 

| 1 the gossips of Birmingham. It was a small 

Ji J_L building, but quite large enough to hold a 
mystery. Who the proprietor was, or where he came 
from, none could tell. He looked like a gentleman, 
that was certain, though everybody knew he had risen 
from an apprenticeship ; and he could handle his pen 
like a writing-master. 

Years ago he had suddenly appeared in the place, 
a lad of eighteen ; learned his trade faithfully, and 
risen in the confidence of his employer ; been taken 
in as a partner soon after his time was up ; and 
finally, when old Willett died, had assumed the busi- 
ness on his own hands. This was all that was known 
of his affairs. 

It was a common remark among some of the good 
people that he never had a word to say to a Christian 

[331 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


soul ; while others declared, that though he spoke 
beautiful, when he chose to, there was something 
wrong in his accent. A tidy man, too, they called 
him, all but for having that scandalous green pond 
alongside of his factory, which wasn’t deep enough 
for an eel and was "just a fever-nest, as sure as 
you live.” 

His nationality was a great puzzle. The English 
name spoke plain enough for one side of his house ; 
but of what manner of nation was his mother? If 
she ’d been an American, he ’d certain have had 
high cheek-bones and reddish skin ; if a German, 
he would have known the language, and Squire 
Smith declared he did n’t ; if French (and his hav- 
ing that frog pond made it seem likely), it would 
come out in his speech. No, there was nothing he 
could be but Dutch. And strangest of all, though 
the man always pricked up his ears when you talked 
of Holland, he did n’t seem to know the first thing 
about the country when you put him to the point. 

Anyhow, as no letters ever came to him from his 
mother’s family in Holland, and as nobody living 
had even seen old Higgs, the family could n’t be 
anything much. Probably Thomas Higgs himself 
was no better than he should be, for all he pre- 
tended to carry himself so straight; and, for their 
parts, the gossips declared they were not going to 
trouble their heads about him. Consequently Thomas 
Higgs and his affairs were never-failing subjects of 
discussion. 


[332 ] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


Picture, then, the consternation among all the good 
people when it was announced by " somebody who 
was there, and ought to know,” that the postboy had 
that very morning handed Higgs a foreign-looking 
letter, and the man had " turned as white as the 
wall, .rushed to his factory, talked a bit with one of 
the head workmen, and, without bidding a creature 
good-by, was off bag and baggage before you could 
wink, ma’am.” Mistress Scrubbs, his landlady, was 
in deep affliction. The dear soul became quite out 
of breath while speaking of him. "To leave lodgin’s 
in that suddent way, without never so much as a 
day’s warnin’, which was what every woman who 
did n’t wish to be trodden underfoot (which, thank 
hewing ! wasn’t her way) had a perfect right to ex- 
pect — yes, and a week’s warnin’, now you mention 
it ; and without even so much as sayin’, 1 Many 
thanks to you, Mistress Scrubbs, for all past kind- 
nesses,’ which was most numerous, though she said 
it, who should n’t say it — leastwise she was n’t never 
no kind of a person to be lookin’ for thanks every 
minit. It was really scanderlous, though, to be sure, 
Mister ’iggs paid up everythin’ to the last farthin’; 
and it fairly brought tears to her eyes to see his 
dear empty boots lyin’ there in the corner of his 
room, which alone showed trouble of mind ; for he 
always stood ’em up straight as solgers, though bein’ 
half-soled twice, they hadn’t, of course, been worth 
takin’ away.” 

Whereupon her dearest friend, Miss Scrumpkins, 
[ 333 ] 


HANS BRINKER 

ran home to tell all about it. And as everybody 
knew the Scrumpkinses, a shining gossamer of news 
was soon woven from one end of the street to the 
other. 

An investigating committee met that evening at 
Mrs. Snigham’s, sitting in secret session over her 
best china. Though invited only to a quiet "tea,” 
the amount of judicial business they transacted on 
the occasion was prodigious. The biscuits were ac- 
tually cold before the committee had a chance to eat 
anything. There was so much to talk over, and it 
was so important that it should be firmly established 
that each member had always been "certain sure that 
something extraordinary would be happening to that 
man yet,” that it was near eight o’clock before 
Mrs. Snigham gave anybody a second cup. 


[334] 



XLIV 

BROAD SUNSHINE 

O NE snowy day in January Laurens Boekman 
) went with his father to pay his respects to 
the Brinker family. 

Raff was resting after the labors of the day. Gretel, 
having filled and lighted his pipe, was brushing every 
speck of ash from the hearth. The dame was spin- 
ning ; and Hans, perched upon a stool by the window, 
was diligently studying his lessons. A peaceful, 
happy household, whose main excitement during the 
past week had been the looking forward to this pos- 
sible visit from Thomas Higgs. 

As soon as the grand presentation was over, Dame 
Brinker insisted upon giving her guests some hot 
tea. " It was enough to freeze anyone,” she said, 
"to be out in such crazy, blustering weather.” While 
they were talking with her husband, she whispered 
to Gretel that the young gentleman’s eyes and her 
boy’s were certainly as much alike as four beans, to 

[ 335 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


say nothing of a way they both had of looking as if 
they were stupid and yet knew as much as a body’s 
grandfather. 

Gretel was disappointed. She had looked forward 
to a tragic scene, such as Annie Bouman had often 
described to her from storybooks ; and here was the 
gentleman who came so near being a murderer, who 
for ten years had been wandering over the face of 
the earth, who had believed himself deserted and 
scorned by his father, the very young gentleman who 
had fled from his country in such magnificent trouble, 
sitting by the fire just as pleasant and natural as 
could be ! 

To be sure, his voice had trembled when he talked 
with her parents, and he had met his father’s look with 
a bright kind of smile that would have suited a 
dragon killer bringing the waters of perpetual youth 
to his king ; but, after all, he was n’t at all like the 
conquered hero in Annie’s book. He did not say, 
lifting his hand toward heaven, " I hereby swear to 
be forever faithful to my home, my God, and my 
country,” which would have been only right and 
proper under the circumstances. 

All things considered, Gretel was disappointed. 
Raff, however, was perfectly satisfied. The message 
was delivered ; Dr. Boekman had his son safe and 
sound ; and the poor lad had done nothing sinful, 
after all, except in thinking his father would have 
abandoned him for an accident. To be sure, the 
graceful stripling had become rather a heavy man. 

[336 ] 





HANS BRINKER 

Raff had unconsciously hoped to clasp that same 
boyish hand again; but all things were changed 
to Raff, for that matter. So he pushed back every 
feeling but joy, as he saw father and soq sitting side 
by side at his hearthstone. Meantime Hans was 
wholly occupied in the thought of Thomas Higgs’s 
happiness in being able to be the meesters assistant 
again ; and Dame Brinker was sighing softly to her- 
self, wishing that the lad’s mother were alive to see 
him, — such a fine young gentleman as he was, — 
and wondering how Dr. Boekman could bear to see 
the silver watch getting so dull. He had worn it ever 
since Raff handed it over, that was evident. What 
had he done with the gold one he used to wear ? 

The light was shining full upon Dr. Boekman’s 
face. How contented he looked ! how much younger 
and brighter than formerly ! The hard lines were 
quite melting away. He was laughing, as he said to 
the father: ''Am I not a happy man, Raff Brinker? 
My son will sell out his factory this month and 
open a warehouse in Amsterdam. I shall have all 
my spectacle cases for nothing.” 

Hans started from his reverie. " A warehouse, 
Mynheer ! And will Thomas Higgs — I mean is 
your son not to be your assistant again ? ” 

A shade passed over the me ester's face ; but he 
brightened with an effort, as he replied : " Oh, no ! 
Laurens has had quite enough of that. He wishes 
to be a merchant.” 

Hans appeared so surprised and disappointed that 

[338] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


his friend asked good-naturedly: "Why so silent, 
boy ? Is it any disgrace to be a merchant ? ” 

" N — not a disgrace, Mynheer,” stammered Hans ; 
"but—” 

" But what ? ” 

"Why, the other calling is so much better,” answered 
Hans, " so much nobler. I think, Mynheer,” he added, 
kindling with enthusiasm, " that to be a surgeon, to 
cure the sick and crippled, to save human life, to 
be able to do what you have done for my father, is 
the grandest thing on earth.” 

The doctor was regarding him sternly. Hans felt 
rebuked. His cheeks were flushed ; hot tears were 
gathering under his lashes. 

"It is an ugly business, boy, this surgery,” said the 
doctor, still frowning at Hans ; "it requires great 
patience, self-denial, and perseverance.” 

" I am sure it does,” cried Hans, kindling again. 
" It calls for wisdom, too, and a reverence for God’s 
work. Ah, Mynheer, it may have its trials and draw- 
backs, but you do not mean what you say. It is great 
and noble, not ugly ! Pardon me, Mynheer. It is 
not for me to speak so boldly.” 

Dr. Boekman was evidently displeased. He turned 
his back on the boy and conferred aside with Laurens. 
Meanwhile the dame scowled a terrible warning at 
Hans. These great people, she knew well enough, 
never liked to hear poor folk speak up so pert. 

The meester turned around. 

" How old are you, Hans Brinker ? ” 

[ 339 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


" Fifteen, Mynheer,” was the startled reply. 

" Would you like to become a physician ? ” 

" Yes, Mynheer,” answered Hans, quivering with 
excitement. 

" Would you be willing, with your parents’ consent, 
to devote yourself to study, to go to the university, 
and, in time, be a student in my office ? ” 

" Yes, Mynheer.” 

" You would not grow restless, think you, and 
change your mind just as I had set my heart upon 
preparing you to be my successor ? ” 

Hans’s eyes 'flashed. 

"No, Mynheer ! I would not change.” 

"You may believe him there,” cried the dame, 
who could remain quiet no longer. " Hans is like a 
rock, when once he decides ; and as for study, Myn- 
heer, the child has almost grown fast to his books, 
of late. He can jumble off Latin already, like any 
priest.” 

The doctor smiled. "Well, Hans, I see nothing 
to prevent us from carrying out this plan, if your 
father agrees.” 

"Ahem!” said Raff, too proud of his boy to be 
very meek. "The fact is, Mynheer, I prefer an active, 
out-of-door life myself. But if the lad’s inclined to 
study for a meester , and he’d have the benefit of 
your good word to push him on in the world, it’s 
all one to me. The money ’s all that ’s a-wanting ; but 
it mightn’t be long with two strong pair of arms to 
earn it, before we—” 


[340] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 


"Tut, tut ! ” interrupted the doctor. " If I take your 
right-hand man away, I must pay the cost ; and glad 
enough will I be to do it. It will be like having two 
sons, eh, Laurens ? — one a merchant, and the other 
a surgeon. I shall be the happiest man in Holland. 
Come to me in the morning, Hans, and we will 
arrange matters at once." 

Hans bowed assent. He dared not trust himself 
to speak. 

"And Brinker," continued the doctor, "my son 
Laurens will need a trusty, ready man like you when 
he opens his warehouse in Amsterdam ; someone to 
overlook matters and see that the lazy clowns round 
about the place do their duty ; someone to — Why 
don’t you tell him yourself, you rascal ? " 

This last was addressed to the son, and did not 
sound half as fierce as it looks in print. The rascal 
and Raff soon understood each other perfectly. 

"I’m loath to leave the dikes," said the latter, 
after they had talked together awhile, " but you have 
made me such a good offer, Mynheer, I’d be robbing 
my family if I let it go past me." 

Take a long look at Hans as he sits there staring 
gratefully at the meester ; for you shall not see him 
again for many years. 

And Gretel — ah, what a vista of puzzling work 
suddenly opens before her! Yes, for dear Hans’s 
sake she will study now. If he really is to be a 
meester , his sister must not shame his greatness. 
[341 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


How faithfully those glancing eyes shall yet seek 
for the jewels that lie hidden in rocky schoolbooks ! 
And how they shall yet brighten and droop at the 
coming of one whom she knows of now only as the 
boy who wore a red cap on that wonderful day when 
she found the silver skates in her apron ! 

But the doctor and Laurens are going. Dame 
Brinker is making her best curtsy. Raff stands be- 
side her, looking every inch a man as he grasps 
the me ester's hand. Through the open cottage door 
we can look out upon the level Dutch landscape, all 
alive with the falling snow. 


[342 ] 



O UR story is nearly told. Time passes in Hol- 
) land just as surely and steadily as here ; in 
that respect no country is odd. 

To the Brinker family it has brought great changes. 
Hans has spent the years faithfully and profitably, 
conquering obstacles as they arose, and pursuing one 
object with all the energy of his nature. If often the 
way has been rugged, his resolution has never failed. 
Sometimes he echoes, with his good old friend, the 
words said long ago in that little cottage near Broek, 
"Surgery is an ugly business”; but always in his 
heart of hearts lingers the echo of those truer words, 
"It is great and noble ; it awakes a reverence for 
God’s work.” 

Were you in Amsterdam to-day you might see the 
famous Dr. Brinker riding in his grand coach to visit 
his patients ; or it might be you would see him skat- 
ing with his own boys and girls upon the frozen canal. 
For Annie Bouman, the beautiful, frank-hearted 

[ 343 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


peasant girl, you would inquire in vain ; but Annie 
Brinker, the vrouw of the great physician, is very 
tike her, only, as Hans says, she is even lovelier, 
wiser, and more like a fairy godmother, than ever. 

Peter van Holp, also, is a married man. I could 
have told you before that he and Hilda would join 
hands and glide through life together, just as, years 
ago, they skimmed side by side over the frozen, 
sunlit river. 

At one time I came near hinting that Katrinka 
and Carl would join hands. It is fortunate now that 
the report was not started, for Katrinka changed her 
mind and is single to this day. The lady is not quite 
so merry as formerly, and I grieve to say some of the 
tinkling bells are out of tune. But she is the life of 
her social circle still. I wish she would be in earnest, 
just for a little while ; but no, it is not her nature. 
Her cares and sorrows do nothing more than disturb 
the tinkling ; they never waken any deeper music. 

Rychie’s soul has been stirred to its depths during 
these long years. Her history would tell how seed 
carelessly sown is sometimes reaped in anguish, and 
how a golden harvest may follow a painful planting. 
If I mistake not, you may be able to read the written 
record before long ; that is, if you are familiar with 
the Dutch language. In the witty but earnest author, 
whose words are welcomed at this day in thousands 
of Holland homes, few could, recognize the haughty, 
flippant Rychie, who scoffed at little Gretel. 

Lambert van Mounen and Ludwig van Holp are 

[344] 


OR, THE SILVER SKATES 

good Christian men and, what is more easily to be 
seen at a glance, thriving citizens. Both are dwellers 
in Amsterdam; but one clings to the old city of 
that name, and the other is a pilgrim to the new. 
Van Mounen’s present home is not far from Central 
Park; and he says if the New Yorkers do their duty 
the park will in time equal his beautiful Bosch, near 
The Hague. He often thinks of the Katrinka of 
his boyhood ; but he is glad now that Katrinka the 
woman sent him away, though it seemed at the time 
his darkest hour. Ben’s sister Jenny has made him 
very happy — happier than he could have been with 
anyone else in the wide world. 

Carl Schummel has had a hard life. His father 
met with reverses in business ; and as Carl had not 
many warm friends and, above all, was not sustained 
by noble principles, he has been tossed about by 
fortune’s battledore, until his gayest feathers are 
nearly all knocked off. He is a bookkeeper in the 
thriving Amsterdam house of Boekman and Schim- 
melpenninck. Voostenwalbert, the junior partner, 
treats him kindly ; and he, in turn, is very respect- 
ful to the " monkey with a long name for a tail.” 

Of all our group of Holland friends, Jacob Foot 
is the only one who has passed away. Good-natured, 
true-hearted, and unselfish to the last, he is mourned 
now as heartily as he was loved and laughed at while 
on earth. He grew to be very thin before he died 
— thinner than Benjamin Dobbs, who is now port- 
liest among the portly. 

[ 345 ] 


HANS BRINKER 


Raff Brinker and his vrouw have been living 
comfortably in Amsterdam for many years, a faithful, 
happy pair, as simple and straightforward in their 
good fortune as they were patient and trustful in 
darker days. They have a zomerhuis near the old 
cottage, and thither they often repair with their 
children and grandchildren on the pleasant summer 
afternoons, when the pond lilies rear their queenly 
heads above the water. 

The story of Hans Brinker would be but half told 
if we did not leave him with Gretel standing near. 
Dear, quick, patient little Gretel ! What is she now ? 
Ask old Dr. Boekman ; he will declare she is the 
finest singer, the loveliest woman, in Amsterdam. 
Ask Hans and Annie ; they will assure you she is 
the dearest sister ever known. Ask her husband ; he 
will tell you she is the brightest, sweetest little wife 
in Holland. Ask Dame Brinker and Raff ; their 
eyes will glisten with joyous tears. Ask the poor ; 
the air will be filled with blessings. 

But lest you forget a tiny form trembling and 
sobbing on the mound before the Brinker cottage, 
ask the Van Glecks ; they will never weary telling of 
the darling little girl who won the silver skates. 



[346] 


NOTES 


KEY TO PRONUNCIATION 


a as in after 
a as in afire 
e as in be 


a as in face 
& as in surface 


S, as in fact 
a as in affect 
a as in far 


e as in begin 6 as in obey fi as in mfirky 

e as in beg o as in border u as in must 

e as in basement 6 as in bonnet u as in circ&s 

g as in baker o as in move g as in get 

i as in idea ou as in house th as in thin 

i as in fine do as in book y as in yet 

l as in fin u as in muse y as in myth 

o as in bone ft as in musician § as in is 


Page 3. Holland : the scene of this story is laid in the prov- 
inces of North Holland and South Holland, which make up 
about one third of the kingdom of the Netherlands. About 
a fourth of these two provinces is below sea level, as much 
as twenty feet at places. 

Mynheer (min hare'): the Dutch equivalent of "Sir” 
or " Mr.” 

Page 4. Hans (hans) : the abbreviated form of the German 
name Johannes, which is called John in English and Jan 
(yan) in Dutch. 

Gretel (gra't^l) : a German form of the Dutch Grietje 
and the English Margaret. 

cat ''s-cradle step : the cutting of symmetrical figure on 
the ice resembling the ones produced in the old game for 
children of cat’s-cradle. This game is played by two persons 
intertwining cords on the fingers. 

Page 5. klompen (klom'pen) : wooden shoes. 

Page 8. zomerhuis (zo'mer hois) : summerhouse. 

Page 9. dikes (dlks) : at places where there are no dunes to pro- 
tect the land from the sea, dikes are built. The most famous 


[347] 


NOTES 


one is the great Helder Dyke, about forty miles north of 
Amsterdam along the main channel to the Zuider Zee. This 
sea wall is five miles long, thirty feet wide on top, and slopes 
for two hundred feet into the sea. It is built of Norwegian 
granite and Belgian limestone, being strengthened at inter- 
vals by jetties of piles. There are many smaller dikes to 
protect the land against the floods of rivers. 

Page ii. stork: this is the common white stork of Europe. It 
is a very familiar summer visitor to Holland, and spends its 
winters in Africa. It is a songless bird about three feet 
high, feeds on frogs and insects of the meadows, stands 
much on one leg, but occasionally sweeps aloft and circles 
in high flight. It is a welcome guest when it attaches its 
nest to a house, for that is supposed to bring good luck. In 
fact, its Dutch name is derived from an old word meaning 
"the bringer of good.” The stork has been a favorite bird 
in stories since the days of ZEsop. 

Page i 2. Zuider Zee (zl'der ze, in the Dutch called zoi'der za'): 
a shallow arm of the North Sea. This was a lake up to the 
thirteenth century, when the sinking of the coast gradually 
made it an arm of the North Sea. A project is now under 
way to drain the greater part of it. 

Lodewyk (lod'e vlk) and Kassy : common Dutch forms 
for Lewis and Catherine. 

Page 13. A T orth Holland Ship Canal : since this story was 
written many great ship canals have been dug, the greatest 
being the Panama Canal. This North Holland Ship Canal, 
extending about fifty miles from Amsterdam to. Helder, was 
completed in 1 825. Since then a much wider canal, called the 
North Sea Canal, has been built through the dunes from 
Amsterdam to the North Sea, a distance of sixteen miles. 

trekschuyten (trek'skoit en) and pakschuy ten : canal boats. 
" Some of the first named are over thirty feet long. They 
look like green houses lodged on barges, and are drawn by 
horses walking along the bank of the canal. The trekschuy- 
ten are divided into two compartments, first and second class, 
and when not too crowded the passengers make themselves 

[348] 

<3 


NOTES 


quite at home in them ; the men smoke, the women knit 
or sew, while children play upon the small outer deck. 
Many of the canal boats have white, yellow, or chocolate- 
colored sails. This last color is caused by a preparation of 
tan which is put on to preserve them.” — M. M. D. 

polders (pol'ders) : when windmills were turned to pumping, 
in the fifteenth century, the reclaiming of land or the making 
of polders became common. This was done by pumping the 
water from an area inclosed by dikes. From this area, if 
along a river, the peat was removed and the clay soil beneath 
made fertile farming land. The windmills for this work are 
now being replaced by regular pumping plants run by 
engines. 

Page i 4. kermis (ker'mis) : in Dutch and Flemish countries 
a yearly fair characterized by much noise and merrymaking. 

dune (dun) : Holland’s chief protection against the sea is 
a long line of sand dunes. The average height of these 
dunes is about thirty feet, but one near Haarlem is two 
hundred feet high. Some are over two miles wide. They 
were slowly made by the action of sea waves and wind. To 
prevent drifting on the landward side they are sown with 
bent-grass. Many springs flow from the foot of the dunes. 
As early as 1853 Amsterdam began supplying her inhabitants 
with water from some of these springs. 

Page i 7. mimosa (ml mo's#) : the sensitive plant. 

Page 18. Motley ( mot'ly) : there is an abridged edition of this 
American historian’s work, called " The Boy’s Motley,” that 
would be deeply interesting to anyone liking " Hans Brinker.” 

Friesland (frez'l#nd) : a low, flat province northeast of 
the Zuider Zee. 

Page 21 . Broek (bn?hk) : a small town in the province of North 
Holland, seven miles northeast of Amsterdam. The people 
and the town itself are noted for neatness. 

Amsterdam (am'ster dam) : the chief commercial city of 
Holland and the place where the rulers are crowned. It is 
built on marshy ground at the confluence of the Amstel 
River and the Y (T), an arm of the Zuider Zee. It was founded 

[349] 


NOTES 


in the thirteenth century by the lords of the Amstel, who 
had built a dam here. The city is traversed by canals con- 
nected by numerous bridges. For centuries this city has 
been the center of the diamond cutting and polishing 
industry of the world. 

Page 22. burgomaster (bur'go mas ter) : the chief magistrate of 
a Dutch town, corresponding to a mayor in the United States. 

peat (pet): a substance composed of partly decayed 
plants like bog moss, reeds, and heath, found in swamps in 
cold countries. It is cut out and dried during the spring 
and summer. 

stiver (sti'ver): a Dutch coin worth about two cents in 
our money. 

Page 23. Leer, leer ! jou luigaart , of dit endje touw zal je 
leeren / " Learn ! learn ! you idler, or this rope’s end shall 
teach you.” 

black-bread : rye bread. 

Page 24. Ludwig and Carl: German forms ; the Dutch would 
be Lodewyk and Karel (kar'/l), corresponding in English to 
Lewis and Charles. 

sack (sak) : a loose-fitting coat for a girl or woman. 

Page 25. Mevrouw(mei frou') : the Dutch form of " Madame ” 
or " Mrs.” 

Page 28. staccato (st<zk ka'to) : a musical term indicating an 
abrupt or disconnected movement. 

Page 29. jufvrouw (yuf frou') : a young lady ; the form being 
" Miss ” in English. In formal address it would be jongvrowe 
(yiing frou'). 

Page 30. kwartjes (kw^rt'yes) : a kwartje is a small silver coin 
equal to a quarter of a guilder, or ten cents in our money. 

Page 32. whitewood : basswood, or linden. 

Page 38. St. Nicholas (nlk'oDs): the Santa Claus of the 
Dutch. He was the patron saint of boys and is said to have 
died in the year 326. 

Page 43. Pinkster (pingk'ster) week : the week of Whitsuntide, 
or the time of Pentecost. It is the week of the seventh 
Sunday after Easter. 


[ 35 ° ] 


NOTES 

Page 48. Hoity , toity : used here as an exclamation of dis- 
approval. 

cent : the Dutch cent is worth about half of an American 
cent. 

Page 52. meester (mas' ter): the name the lower class in 
Holland give to a doctor. 

Page 55. cut out in growing box : the box is a small tree, 
partly evergreen, that can be trimmed into almost any 
form. 

automatons (6 tomuz tons) : self-moving machines that 
imitate the motions of living beings. 

mosaic (mo za'ik) courtyards : inclosed yards either 
gardened or decorated with tile laid in colored designs 
or patterns. 

Y (I) : an arm of the Zuider Zee. 

Jive miles : this story uses our statute mile of 5280 feet, 
which is only about one fourth as long as the Dutch mile. 

Page 65. Haarlem (har'l/m): the capital of North Holland. 
It is situated eleven miles west of Amsterdam and four 
miles from the North Sea. It is especially famous for its 
flower gardens and for the great organ here mentioned, 
that was built in 1738. 

Leyden (lfd/n) : in the province of South Holland, 
situated on the old Rhine, six miles from the North Sea and 
twenty-two miles southwest of Amsterdam. It is celebrated 
for the famous siege of the Spaniards in 1 573. It was also 
the birthplace of the great Dutch painter, Rembrandt, and 
was the home of the Pilgrims for a few years before 
their coming to America. 

The Hague (hag) : the capital of the province of South 
Holland, situated about three miles from the sea and about 
ten miles southwest from Leyden. In the thirteenth century 
it was no more than a hunting lodge for the lords of 
Holland, and it only came to have the rights of a town or 
city under King Louis Bonaparte. In addition to the places 
of interest told about in this story, there could be added the 
Palace of Peace, completed only a few years ago. 

[351] 


NOTES 


Page 70. astral (as'tral) lamp : a lamp having a circular, 
hollow wick and so constructed that no shadow is cast 
upon the table by the flattened ring-shaped bowl containing 
the oil. 

Page 72. meerschaum (mer'shom) : a pipe made of a fine white 
clay of that name, largely obtained in Asia Minor. The 
word is of German origin and means "sea foam," referring 
to the property the clay has of making a foamy lather when 
washed by water. 

Page 75. doel(dSi\)\ bull’s-eye. 

Page 79. panniers (panders) : wicker baskets. 

Page 87. Hardly in England: "Although the tulip mania 
did not prevail in England as in Holland, the flower soon 
became an object of speculation and brought very large 
prices. In 1636 tulips were publicly sold on the exchange 
in London. Even as late as 1800 a common price was 
fifteen guineas for one bulb. Ben did not know that in 
his own country a single tulip plant, called the Fanny 
Kemble, had sold in London for more than 70 guineas." — 
M.M.D. 

florins (florins): a florin is about forty cents in United 
States money. The gold coin of this value in Holland is the 
gulden (gdol'den), or guilder, the standard monetary unit. 

Page 92. mandarin (man'd# rln) : a toy representing a gro- 
tesque seated figure in Chinese costume, so contrived as to 
continue nodding a long time after it is shaken. 

Page 94. warmingflan : a closed metal vessel, with a long 
handle, containing either live coals or hot water, for warm- 
ing a bed. 

Page 96. halfweg (halfwech) : halfway. 

Page 99. tiffin (tiffin) hour : lunch time. 

coffeehouse : a place where coffee and refreshments were 
supplied. In early times it was a place for the exchange of 
news as well as a place to eat and drink. 

Page 106. tippet (tip'et): a scarf for the neck and shoulders, 
originally made of fur. 

Page i 08. porringer (porln jer) : a bowl. 

[352] 


NOTES 


Page 123. vox huma 7 ia : human voice. Here an organ stop, 
which produces an effect resembling the human voice. 

P age 137. dowager (dou'# jer) : a widow of independent 
fortune. 

Page 140. schipper (ship'er) : the same as skipper, the master 
of a small boat or ice-boat. 

Page 141. Juggernaut (jug'ger nbt): a religious idol in India 
that was borne along on an enormous car. Beneath the 
wheels of this car the worshipers would at times throw 
themselves. 

carillons (karK Ions) : chimes of bells. 

Page 148. schnapps (shnapps) : Holland gin. 

Spartan (spar'tan) resolve : a determined and courageous 
resolve. 

Page 152. tied to the roc's leg: read the wonderful second 
voyage in the story of Sindbad the Sailor, in The Arabian 
Nights’ Entertainments. 

winged horse Pegasus (peg'a sus) : read the story of the 

* Chimera in Hawthorne’s " A Wonder Book for Girls 
and Boys.” 

Page i 54. salmagundi (sal ma gun'dl) : a mixture of chopped 
meat, pickled herring, onions, oil, vinegar, and pepper. 

Page 157. Stadhuis (stat'hois): a Dutch 'town hall. 

Page 1 6 1 . tinder-boxes : boxes fitted with flint and steel so 
that when opened a spark fell upon tinder kept within for 
lighting purposes. 

deal dresser : a dresser made of pine or fir. 

Page i 69. Herculean (her ku'le an) : of more than ordinary 
strength, referring to the feats of Hercules. 

Page i 70. blunderbuss : an old kind of short shotgun, with 
large bore and bell-shaped muzzle, for shooting at short range. 

Page i 80. Boerhaave (bor'ha ve) : a famous Dutch physician 
who was professor of medicine at the University of 
Leyden in the early part of the eighteenth century. 

Simplex sigillum veri : simple badge of truth. 

Page 181. Hengist (heng'gist): a chief of the Jutes, who 
founded the kingdom of Kent about 450. 

[353 ] 


NOTES 


Page 187. Hop-o' -my-Thumb : the hero of. a fairy story, who 
stole the ogre’s seven-league boots and had such great 
adventures. He is not the English Tom Thumb of King 
Arthur’s court. 

Fortunatus (f6r tu na't^s) : the hero of an Italian fairy 
tale. He received from Fortune a purse that never became 
empty and from the Sultan a wishing-cap that would trans- 
port him to any place he wanted to go. 

Page 188. genii (je'nl i) : either good or evil spirits of the earth. 

Puss in Boots : a wonderful cat in a French fairy story, 
who secures a princess and a fortune for his master, a poor 
young miller. 

gnome (nom): here a statue representing an earth spirit 
whose work was to preside over mines. 

Sleeping Beauty : the princess in the French fairy tale, 
who went to sleep according to the wish of an evil fairy 
and slept a hundred years in a castle until a prince came to 
waken her. 

Page i 89. Titania (tl ta'nl a): the queen of the fairies in " Mid- 
summer Night’s Dream.” Originally the same as Diana. 

Page 192. Jufvroww Brinker : women of the lower class in 
Holland do not take the title Mevrouw (or Mrs.) when they 
marry, as they do in our country. They take their husband’s 
name, but are still called Jufvrouw (or Miss). 

Page 200. Mercuries (mur'ku riz) : the reference is to the 
Roman god Mercury, who was the patron of messengers 
and commerce, and who wore winged sandals. 

Page 205. skittles (skiF’lz) : an English game resembling 
ninepins, but played by throwing wooden disks at the pins. 

Page 207. ysbreeker (is'bra ker) : " Ice-breaker — a heavy 
machine armed with iron spikes for breaking the ice as it is 
dragged along. Some of the small ones are worked by men, 
but the large ones are drawn by horses, sixty or seventy of 
which are sometimes attached to one ysbreeker.” — M. M. D. 

Page 234. ad infinitum : to infinity, or always. 

Page 290. Jacob Cats : a popular Dutch poet who lived over 
two hundred years before the time of this story. 

[354] 


NOTES 


Page 300. harlequin (har'le kin) coats : coats fancifully varied 
in color. For the boys mentioned here they were checked 
in red and black. 

Page 301. sabots (sabos'): wooden shoes worn by peasants. 

Page 321. pirouetting (pir'do et ing), . . . cutting a pigeon- 
wing, . . . Highland fling : a reference to kinds of dancing. 
The first refers to whirling around on the toes, the second 
to jumping and striking the heels together, and the third to 
a vigorous Scottish dance done by one person. 


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